Turn Back Time
by UnimaginableDreams
Summary: AU/What happens when your true love is from a different time? - *Rizzles*
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Old-Fashioned Lunatic **

"I wish I could go back, like, two days, and retake this freaking test," Frost complains to his best friend Jane, showing her a test packet with a huge red "F" in a circle.

Jane laughs and slaps Frost on the back in a friendly manner. "Dude, face it, you and Physics just do not get along. You never have and you never will."

"Ugh, my parents are going to kill me, no, wait, they'll murder me with their butter knives at dinner tonight!" Frost groans, whacking himself on the head with his test as they walk down the hallway after school. "Do you think Mr. Hath will let me retake it?"

Jane shakes his head and laughs lightly. "You know what he says; no retests, period," Jane says, quoting their Physics teacher perfectly.

Frost lets out a heavy sigh as they exit from the school. "Maybe if I could find some way to go back-"

Jane laughs, cutting off her friend. "Frost, dude, you can't go back in time. I'm sorry to inform you, but time travel is not possible, my friend, trust me," Jane says in an amused tone, shaking her head at her friend's crazy ideas.

"Fuck you. Maybe it is," Frost says thoughtfully, though he terribly doubts his own words. "They do it all the time in movies."

"Yeah, well they also have pink dancing elephants in movies too, but you don't see that everyday, do you?"

"Fine, fine, point proven," Frost says with a laugh. "So maybe not _everything_ you see in movies is true, but who's to say that time travel isn't possible?"

Jane shakes her head and smirks at her friend. "Frost… you're a nutcase."

"Yeah, I love you too," Frost replies with a smile, slinging his arm around Jane's shoulders as they walk down the sidewalk toward the abandoned town park. Jane shoves Frost off and pushes him away.

"Too much lovin' man, cut it out," Jane warns, glaring at Frost. Frost only laughs back; he knows it's one of Jane's pet peeves for people to get too close, especially around her shoulders. It's always something about them getting too close to her brown, curly locks, you know, something odd about people and their hair.

They reach the park and walk toward the old, forgotten wooden area, a perfect hangout.

"So, are we going to that new club later tonight?" Frost asks in a hopeful voice.

Jane grins. "Yep, count me in," she says, flashing her wicked smirk.

They hang around some old abandoned picnic table and chat about useless junk, until Frost looks at the time on her phone.

"Shit, I've got to go!" Frost yells as he waves a goodbye to Jane and scurries off down the gravel path and out of view.

Jane shakes her head and laughs; typical Frost, always running late for something. She leans back against the table, resting on the seat with her legs stretched out in front of her, her elbows on the tabletop of rotting wood as her back leans against the edge for support. She stares off into the distance for a few moments, daydreaming as she looks at no space in particular, thoughts swimming through her mind.

But then she quirks her head to the side and arches a curious eyebrow as she notices something several yards away.

A pipe is standing up out of the ground.

Jane furrows her brow in confusion. _That's never been there before_, she thinks to herself as she stands up to walk over and examine it.

She looks it over and cautiously kicks it with the toe of her sneaker. It's sturdy, and made out of some form of thick steel. It's painted black and looks brand new, the paint still looking rather fresh, and there's definitely no sign of aging or rust. She's not quite sure what it is, though it faintly reminds her of something she once saw in her history book, like some sort of device for bringing water out of the ground, or something along the lines of that.

She scratches her head as she stares at it, terribly confused as to why such a thing would be residing in the abandoned area of the park, surrounded by century old oak trees and dying grass. It looks so out of place, standing there like it was just constructed the day before.

Testing to see if the handle moves, Jane places her hand on the cold steel, gripping it tightly as she jiggles it. Finally it loosens and moves in her hand, along with a huge gust of wind, blowing Jane's clothes against her body.

_Weird_, Jane thinks as she shakes her head and releases the handle, _it's nothing more than a useless piece of…_

Jane freezes after she raises her head and glances around, her eyes widening at the scenery around her.

She's no longer in the abandoned part of the old park. Instead, she's standing in the middle of a luscious yard, with vibrant green grass and blooming flowers surrounding her.

She turns her head, and takes note of all the differences. The sky isn't dark and cloudy like she remembers it looking right after school; it's pleasant and filled with large, white puffy clouds.

The century old oak trees are no longer there, though there are small twig-like trees beginning to pop out of the earth. And the grass isn't dead, it's healthy and fresh, and looks surprisingly cared for.

And that's when she realizes she's in someone's yard. A massive stone house stands opposite her, rising high above her and cowering over her like a castle in a fairytale. It's made of grey stone and is a couple stories high, accompanied with large windows. The outside of the house, or mansion even, seems to yell rich.

_Man, they've got some dough_, Jane thinks to herself with a smirk as she sizes up the house, imagining what it would be like to live in such a spacious building.

"Excuse me, ma'am, could you please get your filthy body off our lawn?" a young voice travels through the light breeze in the late afternoon.

Jane jumps at the voice and turns to see, in the distance, a short, young woman. She had shoulder length, honey blonde hair, full, pouty lips, and a pair of deep, hazel eyes. Jane shudders by the natural beauty, taken aback by how it radiates off of the person before her.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I do believe I asked you-" the voice says again, this time with a bit of annoyance evident in her tone as she walks closer to the thing on her family's lawn, _the nerve of that woman_. "Oh my!" the person says as they come within a few feet of Jane. "What in heavens are you wearing? That attire is… is… quite atrocious!"

Jane smirks, looking down at her blue jeans and her fitting white t-shirt. She shrugs, her brown locks falling over her shoulders as she looks back up at the person who is standing right in front of her now, the young woman's jaw dropped as she critically looks Jane up and down.

"Um…" Jane says, not knowing what to even say, her voice trapped in some faraway place, locked up in a toy chest.

"What is that on your head? I've never seen anything quite like that before!" the boy exclaims, pointing at Jane's backward cap. "And these… clothes? I've never seen anything even near those in the stores, not even the cheap stores down in the district. Where did you manage to purchase those… rags?" she asks, raising her eyebrows curiously as she looks at a dumbfounded Jane with an expectant stare. "Well?"

Jane feels like a mute, as she stands in this woman's demanding stare, unable to scavenge out any type of answer. _What is with this proper girl_?

Jane lets out a nervous laugh as she stares back at the girl, looking at her full, antique-looking dress. _Wow, old-fashioned_. "Dude, you're acting like you've never seen anything past the 20th century," she says with amusement.

"Well, I'd wish to in my dreams," the girl says softly, slightly confused by the change in topic. Were they not discussing this woman's atrocious attire?

Jane laughs a little bit uneasily as she takes another glance around, noticing that everything around her seems so old-fashioned, hell, even the air seems old.

"But you're living in the 21st century, it's 2008, tons of people dress like this," Jane says with a bit of confusion, though she feels like she's not going to win this conversation.

"2008? Oh, my! Have you… had an injury to the head recently?" the girl asks, backing a few steps away from Jane, gaining some distance.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's 1908…" the girl continues softly, feeling slightly sad as she notices the other girl's face pale, her cheeks turning rather white from the sudden news.

"1908?"

The woman nods cautiously, afraid of how this frightening human may react.

"You," Jane says, shaking her head and laughing as she wags a finger in the beautiful woman's face. "You are a fucking nut case!"

"Excuse me, ma'am!" the young woman says in an offended voice. "What in heavens did you just call me?"

"You're crazy!" Jane yells, ignoring the question. "This is… this is ludicrous! It's 2008, I don't know what the fuck you've been smoking, or what costume store you've been crashing, but you're crazy!"

"I do believe they say it takes one to know one," the young woman replies defensively, yet in a rather calm tone as she watches the girl rant and fling her arms around like a mad woman.

Jane seals her lips and attempts to calm her racing heart. _This is mad_, she thinks to herself. Though when she looks around, her surroundings beg to differ with her challenging mind.

The honey blonde young woman stares at Jane with a welcoming face, a small smile tugging at her lips as familiar dimples appear on her cheeks.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" she asks softly.

"Where am I?" Jane asks. The woman furrows her brow. "Where am I?"

"1541 Beacon Street," she replies quickly.

Jane's eyes widen at the name. _That's the street the park is on_, she thinks to herself, looking around to notice the young, growing trees are in the same spots as the huge oaks back home.

She shakes her head, muttering useless words to herself as she glances around. "This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this cannot be happening!" she nearly yells, startling the woman who's still standing in front of her, staring at her with curiosity.

"Excuse me?" the woman asks, unable to decipher Jane's rambling.

Jane raises her head and stares at the girl. "I need to get home," she states clearly.

"Well, where do you live? I'm sure I can help you find it."

Jane motions away from the house, out past the fence that blocks them in. "Over on 5th," she says.

"5th! I'm afraid that's not possible, you silly lady. 5th is nothing more than a few small office buildings, there are no homes over in that area of town," she replies, failing to hold back a laugh. "Now, where do you live?"

"I told you! I live on 5th, and there are houses there! I know; I live there!" Jane yells, unable to hide her frustration. "Show me," she says in a stern voice.

"Show you? Show you what, ma'am?" the woman asks.

"Show me that there are no houses there; I don't believe you."

"Well, I would, but I'm afraid you can't traipse around town dressed in those… rags," she replies, motioning toward Jane's clothing.

"Fine, do you have anything I could… borrow?"

The girl lets out a sigh, clearly disliking the idea of having this strange girl wearing her clothes; the thought makes her shudder with disgust. "I suppose I may have an old dress you could change into," she says pointedly, though she still doesn't like the idea.

"Great," Jane says with a forced smile. _Dress? Fuck, she's not kidding around_.

"Follow me," the woman says, turning on her heels and walking away briskly, not even waiting for Jane to follow. Jane jogs after the honey blonde and falls into step beside her as they walk across the yard and to the stone house. "I don't believe you mentioned your name?" the young girl says, ending in a question.

"Oh, uh, Jane," she replies.

"Just Jane? No last name?"

"Rizzoli."

"Rizzoli?" she repeats with mild interest. "Are you in relation to John and Helen Rizzoli? They're close friends of my parents," she says.

"Uh… no, I don't think so," Jane says, though she doesn't know her family tree.

"Hmm," the girl says, glancing at Jane to see if there are any resemblances between her face and that of her parents' friends.

"And you are?" Jane asks, interrupting the girl's thoughts.

"Oh my! How rude of me, not introducing myself! I'm Maura Isles," she says pausing in mid-step and extending her hand toward Jane. Jane grasps the soft hand and smiles lightly. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura says with a smile.

They separate their hands and enter through the large front door of the stone house, Maura leading Jane into the spacious main hall. Jane stands in amazement, her jaw dropping as she looks around. "It's like something out of a history book," she mumbles quietly.

"Excuse me?" Maura asks.

"Oh, um, nothing, just… you have a nice home," she says, glancing at the burgundy carpeted hallway and staircase in front of her and the rich wood of the walls and banister.

Maura smiles as she motions for Jane to follow her up the carpeted stairs to the second floor. "Thank you, my parents would be glad to hear that."

Jane rolls her eyes. _What's with all the proper speech_?

Maura walks into a bedroom and opens a drawer of a dresser and begins rummaging around in some clothing, and pulls out a worn, light blue dress. She hands it to Jane.

"Here, you can change in here, Ms. Rizzoli, I'll wait in the hallway," Maura says with a smile as he walks out the door and closes it behind her, the door closing with a soft click.

Jane looks at the clothes in her hand. "This is crazy," she mutters and throws the clothes onto the bed and walks toward the window, looking outside upon the yard she was in a few minutes before.

Shaking her head in amusement, she pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and flips it open.

The screen is blank.

"What the fuck, I just charged this piece of crap!" she whispers to the room as she holds the power button, waiting for it to light up.

But it never does.

"Great, so I'm in the house of some… old-fashioned lunatic and my phone doesn't work, brilliant," she mutters. "Hey, um, Maura? Do you have something less—fancy? Like some pants or something?"

"Why would you want to wear trousers? That is male clothing!" Maura exclaimed through the door.

"Please, Maura."

"Alright, but I will have to get them from my father's room, so stay there."

Maura is back soon with a pair of worn, brown trousers and a nice dress shirt. Jane thanks Maura and starts changing into the provided clothing as Maura leaves the room again, feeling like she's stepping into some bizarre episode of the "1900s House."

After a couple minutes she peeks her head out into the hall, opening the door a smidge.

"Hey, Maura?" she asks softly.

"Yes, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks, coming into view and smiling her usual, polite smile.

"Do you have a phone?"

"A what?" she asks, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Yeah, a telephone?"

"Oh!" Maura's face lights up in recognition. "Yes, Father has one in his office, but I'm not supposed to touch it."

"Okay… never mind," she says, disappearing back into the room. She pulls at the itchy fabric and looks at her reflection in the glass of the window. "This is fucking ridiculous," she says out loud, but that doesn't stop her from turning around, leaving the room, and following Maura onto the town streets.

She glances around the town as they walk away from the stone house, and Maura, or Ms. Isles, is rambling about some random stuff that Jane completely zones out. The houses and buildings are all rather old looking, like the paintings and photographs Jane has seen in her textbooks at school. The women are dressed in fancy dresses, hats and all, and the men are dressed in knickers, trousers, suits, and dress shirts. They all look like they're going out to some dinner party, or walking out of some old-fashioned play.

But as Maura and Jane reach 5th street, Maura still jabbering on about something she heard the other day, Jane doesn't see what she normally sees everyday. Instead of seeing the duplexes and small houses, she sees a few small shops, convenient stores, and tiny office buildings.

_Maybe Frost was right_, she thinks to herself, her face paling as she takes another look around. _Maybe time travel is possible_.

* * *

**Should I continue? Do you all like it? Hate it? Please let me know in the reviews; They mean so much to me. Thank you**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Frost, You Believe in Time Travel, Right? **

Ms. Rizzoli and Ms. Isles arrive to 5th street in mid-afternoon. The sun is still fairly high in the sky but Jane has no concept of time based off of the sun. To tell the time she always pulls out her phone and checks the screen.

Hell, even the watch she happened to have in her pocket, for some unknown reason, wouldn't work. It was as if the hands of the little clock just… froze in time.

"This is 5th street?" Jane asks in pure disbelief as she stares at the buildings, or lack there of, in front of them.

Maura nods distastefully, "Yes, sadly. They've been discussing what to turn this street into. There's actually quite the controversy over what they shall construct in the upcoming months."

"Fascinating, really," Jane replies with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. _Screw that proper English_, she wants to yell. "You're 100% positive this is 5th street?" Jane asks one more time, just to be on the safe side.

"Yes, Ms. Rizzoli, I'm positive."

"Would you fucking stop calling me that!?" Jane yells, causing a few passer-bys to turn their heads.

"I'm sorry, calling you what, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks, trying to ignore the eyes turning on them. _Oh my, does she not notice that she's already drawn enough eyes to herself by wearing male's clothing?_

"THAT! God dammit you sound like an old teacher from the early 1900- Oh…" Jane finishes, realizing that if she's not totally mad, then they really _are_ in the early 1900s. "Just… call me Jane, please."

Maura smiles half-heartedly. "Oh, why didn't you say so?"

Jane doesn't respond, but merely continues staring at the empty street in front of them, staring at it longingly as if she concentrates hard enough then her home will magically appear right in front of her.

But it doesn't.

"Jane? Are you okay?" Maura asks when she notices the sad look on the woman's face.

Jane snaps out of her thoughts and directs her attention toward Maura. "I… I don't think I can go home yet," she responds softly.

"Oh…" Maura replies, not knowing why the girl can't return home yet. But she brushes off the confusion and jumps right into her always polite mode. "Would you like to stay in our home until you can? Mother and Father are away visiting Great-Aunt Edna," she says in a cheerful voice with a huge grin.

Jane sees Maura's sincere smile and can't turn down the offer. _What else do I have to do anyways?_ "As long as I'm not a burden."

"Oh, of course not," Maura replies, already turning on her heels to return home. Jane scampers after her, almost tripping as her feet aren't used to such nice shoes she was given earlier at the house. "Company is always welcomed in our home," Maura finishes in a happy tone as Jane comes up next to her.

* * *

"Oh, James is home!" Maura says excitedly as she and Jane walk through the front door of the huge stone house after returning from their little walk around the town, a walk that surely threw Jane's mind for a major spin.

"Who?" Jane asks softly, glancing around and seeing nothing different.

Oh, wait, a small pair of shoes is resting near the door.

"James!" Maura calls out to the silent house, completely disregarding Jane's question.

Jane follows Maura into what seems to be a turn of the century living room, or a sitting room, or whatever the hell they called it back then. It's basically a room with a welcoming looking couch and a few arm chairs scattered about, looking rather… old, in Jane's terms.

Within a minute, loud footsteps are heard clashing down the steps and a young boy, no older than 8, comes sprinting into the room, skidding to a halt right in front of Maura.

Maura laughs wholeheartedly at the little boy and shakes her head in amusement, bringing the child in for a light hug as she pulls the young boy against her body.

"James, what have Mother and Father said about running in the house?" Maura asks in a threatening tone, pulling away from the younger boy and looking down into his smiling face.

James lets out a giggle and replies, "Oh, pooh-pooh, they're not here."

Maura bops the kid on the nose lightly, laughing back.

James squirms out of Maura's grip and perks up as he sees Jane standing a couple feet away, shifting from foot to foot as she watches the scene uncomfortably, feeling like a third wheel.

"Who are you?" James asks eagerly, his childish voice overly excited as his eyes scan over the older girl opposite him.

"Uh, I'm Jane."

James glances up at Maura, arching an eyebrow suspiciously.  
Maura laughs lightly and walks over next to Jane.

"James, this is Jane, she'll be staying here… until she can get home," she finishes awkwardly, honestly not knowing the answer.

"Are you one of those peddlers Mother has been speaking of?" the young boy asks, looking at Jane with huge eyes.

"James!"

"What?"

"She is not a peddler," Maura presses, glancing at Jane and suddenly realizing that she actually doesn't know that for sure. "Are you?" she asks warily, eying Jane.

Jane widens her eyes, trying to remember what a peddler even is; it's certainly not a word she's used in her life.

"A w-what?" she asks innocently.

"A ped—oh, never mind, you're obviously not. You're much too young anyways. By the way, Jane, how old are you?"

"17."

"Wow, me too!" Maura says, her voice changing drastically as she nearly squeals in excitement. "Oh, and this here, James, my brother, is eight," Maura continues, standing next to the young boy and smiling.

"I don't see the resemblance," Jane says softly.

"I was adopted," Maura replies back.

"So… if you're not a peddler, then what's with wearing male's clothing?" James asks, changing the subject, walking closer to Jane and looking up at the teenager, reaching for a piece of the fabric.

Jane slaps the boy's hand away and glares at him.

"I don't know why you people are acting like you've never seen such things before."

"Because we haven't," James supplies simply. "Besides those adventure stories I've read a couple times. Those forest women always wear male's clothing like that."

Jane rolls her eyes and replies in an aggravated voice, "I'm not a forest woman."  
_Crazy little kid_, she thinks to herself with a smirk.

"So, Jane, how long are you in town?" Maura asks, walking from the living room and into a kitchen, Jane and James following behind like little dogs following their owners, begging for a small amount of attention.

"I… I don't know," Jane replies truthfully.  
And she doesn't know.  
And the fact that she doesn't know _how_ to return home is beginning to freak her out.

"Hmm, well, you're welcome here as long as you like," Maura says with a smile.

* * *

The sky is starting to turn dark; the rays of sunlight begin to disappear beyond the horizon as the earth turns and nighttime approaches.

Jane is staring out the window of a spare, guest bedroom, watching the moon beginning to appear in the darkening sky as she hugs her knees to her chest, breathing in the musty smell of the trousers, _probably homemade_, she thinks to herself as she tugs lightly at the itchy material.

_This is fucking crazy_ is the only thought running through her mind continuously as she looks around at her surroundings, every surface and item begging to differ with her.

She has to be dreaming, this can't be anything more than some terribly fucked up dream. Did she fall asleep while watching _Back to the Future_ again? She's done that before, and let's just say, she's had some fairly interesting dreams because of it.

But no matter how many times she pinches her skin or slaps her face, and no matter how hard or even how loud the echo, nothing changes.

The room stays the same.

The same wooden bed stares back at her with its flimsy mattress and rustic bed quilt.  
The same wooden chair remains in the corner.  
The same dark wood dresser rests against the wall.

And her 21st century clothes stay laid out on top of the quilt, staring back at her almost mockingly.  
Her shirt and jeans…  
They look so out of place lying there on that old quilt.

She shakes her head as she realizes this window bench she's sitting in is 100 years old, though right now it's no more than a couple years old since its construction.

It's so crazy.

"Fucking messed up," she mutters as she springs from the window bench and takes a few short, hasty strides to the bed and snatches up her normal clothes.

She changes out of the 1900s clothes and into her normal attire in record-breaking time.  
Running a hand down her shirt and looking down, she releases a sigh of relief.  
Never before has she been so happy to be back in her own clothes.

Checking for her cell phone and other random belongings in her pocket, she cracks open the door to the bedroom and pokes her head out into the pitch-black hallway.

It's empty.

She tiptoes out of the room, down the hall, down the steps, and straight out the front door.

Standing in the middle of the yard she was in almost 7 hours before, she spins herself around.

_There has to be some way out of here_, she wonders to herself, trying to remember how she ended up here in the first place.

And that's when she sees it.

Standing a few meters away from her, the smooth surface nearly glistening in the soft moonlight, is the same black pipe.

She's sure that it has to be some sort of water well, noting the small spout she had failed to acknowledge before.

Without taking a second thought, she jogs over to the pipe and stares at it for a moment.

She touches it, closing her eyes.

She opens them.

Nothing's changed.

"Dammit!" she whispers loudly, glancing around at the same 1900s stone house perched next to her.

She tries again, grabbing hold of the handle, closing her eyes, and she even tries clicking her heels like she's Dorothy from the _Wizard of Oz_.

She opens his eyes.

And still, nothing has changed.

"Fuck no, work you fucking little piece of shit!" she nearly yells at the inanimate object, kicking it with the toe of her shoe and yanking at the handle with all her strength.

Suddenly, a large gust of wind whirls around her, whipping against her body and twirling her brown locks in her fit of fury. After the wind ceases, she raises her head and releases her grip on the black pipe, looking around at her surroundings.

Large, solid oak trees, dying grass, the splintery picnic table a few yards away, and… and…

STREETLIGHTS!

"Holy hell, I'm back!" she whispers to the still air around her, sinking to the ground as she feels tears pricking at her eyes.

She looks down at her clothes and feels them with her hands, grabbing at them lightly to make sure they're real.

Sure enough, they are.

Something vibrates in her pocket and she jumps at the sensation, the vibrations sending sparks through her leg.

She reaches into her pocket, and she retrieves her cherished cell phone.

"Oh, my god, it works," she says in an astounded voice, amazed to see the screen lighting up at her.

She flips it open and the image of an envelope blinks at her continuously, signaling a message.  
Or rather, 14 missed calls and 3 new texts.

She sighs and closes the phone, sliding it back into her pocket.  
That's too much to deal with right now.  
Right now, she wants nothing more than to go home.

_Home_… She smiles at the thought and stands up, brushing off her behind and jogging out of the park, down a few streets and coming to a skidding halt on 5th street.

She stands at the corner for a moment, feeling a massive rush of déjà vu as she glances around, remembering standing in this exact spot only a few hours before, yet everything was so… different.

_Different as in 100 years old_, she thinks to himself with a snort, a smirk plastered on her face as she runs across the street and up the front steps of her house.

Pausing with her hand on the knob, she takes a deep breath before throwing the door open and walking into the house.

She lets out a sigh of relief as she notices everything the way it should be, everything in its spot as it was earlier this morning.

The same pictures on the wall, the coffee table, the couch, the TV, the digital clock…  
Everything she'd expect to see in a 21st century house.

"Jane?"

Jane looks up from her reminiscent stare at the television to meet the worried face of her mother standing at the bottom of the stairs in a pink bathrobe, her hair a mess.

"Where… where the hell have you been?" the older woman asks, wiping at her tired eyes as she walks into the living room and over to her daughter.

"Uh… just out, you know, nothing new," she says nonchalantly with a shrug like she would every night.

"At this hour of the night?" she asks, looking over at the clock.

Jane follows her gaze and her jaw drops as she reads the time.  
5:19 AM

"You had us worried sick, sweetie," she says, wrapping Jane in a tight hug, knocking the air out of her.

Jane embraces her back for a moment, but then pulls away.

"I… I'm sorry. I must have lost track of time," she responds softly, looking down at the ground.

_How did this happen? It was only working on 10:00 at night when I left Maura's house_, she wonders to herself. _Wait, what the hell am I saying? That was just some… weird dream_.

"I must have fallen asleep in the park or something," she mutters quietly, not expecting her mother to hear him.

"In the park?" she questions.

"Huh? Oh… yeah, I guess. It's the… last place I remember being at," she says quietly.

Her mother sighs and shakes her head in amusement. "Well, Frost's called about twenty times. He said something about you guys going to some club or something? You know I don't like to hear about that stuff, it's too wild for my baby."

Jane rolls her eyes and laughs lightly. "Mom, I'm 17, I think I can manage a club. An underage club especially."

Looking at her mother's worried expression, Jane can't help but think: _she'd probably like some proper, intelligent daughter like Maura_.

She rubs her forehead at the thought.  
It was just a dream; just a huge fucking messed up dream!  
Or at least, that's what she keeps telling herself.

"You know, Mom," she says after a minute or so. "I'm really tired, so I think I might just go to bed."

"Okay, sweetie," her mother replies softly, leaning forward on her tiptoes to give her daughter a kiss on her cheek. "Sleep tight."

"I will," she says as she ascends the steps. _I hope_, she adds on silently, hoping that when she awakes, she'll forget whatever the hell it was that happened earlier that day, whether it was a dream or not.

* * *

"Dude, wake up!"

"Go the fuck away," Jane mutters, pulling the comforter up over her head as a ray of sunlight immediately attacks her pupils from merely cracking open her eyelids.

"No way dude, you totally ditched me last night by going AWOL. You owe me! You said you were so in for going to that club."

Jane lets out a groan as she feels her friend shaking her, attempting to awake her from her sleep.

Annoyed as hell, she slips her hand out from under her mound of sheets and comforters and casually flips her friend off.

The shaking stops immediately.

"Dude, Jane, that hurts. It's already past one o'clock and your mom told me to wake you up anyways. Are you hung over?" Frost asks softly, staring down at the outline of a body beneath the blankets.

Slowly, the comforter and sheet are pushed away and Jane's face emerges.

"I wish," she manages to croak.

"You wish you were hung over? How fucked up is that?"

"Ohhh, not that fucked up," Jane says with a laugh, pushing herself upward and into a sitting position as she leans against the headboard.

"What do you mean?" Frost asks, noticing that Jane is stuck up on something. "What's going on, are you sick or something?"

Jane chuckles and shakes her head from side to side, squinting up at her friend.

"I think I might be crazy, but ill? No. Just a wee bit crazy," Jane says humorously, holding up her index finger and thumb to illustrate a "wee bit."

Frost laughs uneasily while looking down at his friend.

"Are you… positive you're not drunk?" he asks, double-checking.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure I'm not drunk. I swear it. I haven't touched any alcohol all week long," she says, slightly proud of herself.

"High?" Frost suggests.

"Nope, not high either. I'm not under the influence, or intoxicated or anything like that," Jane replies in a singsong voice.

"Dude, are you… okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine, per-fect-ly fine," Jane says, chuckling as she leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling. "Just slowly losing my mind."

"Jane, what's… going on?" Frost asks uneasily, beginning to become slightly worried for his friend.

Jane turns her head to the side and stares at Frost from beneath heavy eyelids.  
Her lips curl into a light smile as she looks at her friend.

"Frost, you believe in time travel, right?" Jane asks clearly, preparing to tell her friend one hell of a story.

* * *

**Hi everyone, thank you all for liking my story. Please leave reviews; they give me so much encouragement. And, if any of you can make like a banner or something for my story, so I can put it as the story cover, I will greatly appreciate it. Thank you**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Like Having the World at Your Fingertips **

"Jane, dude, what the fuck?" Frost yells after Jane, jogging to catch up with his friend who is speed walking a good several yards in front of him as they roam the city streets during the mid-afternoon. "Where the hell are we going?"

"I already told you," Jane says quickly, not even glancing at her friend.

"No, you told me some shit about a park and then… hell, I don't know, something that sounded like time travel."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Jane," Frost says threateningly, rolling his eyes in pure skepticism. "It's one thing to wish for time to go back to study for a test, but that was just wishful thinking. It's a completely opposite thing to start claiming that you have traveled through time."

"I have," Jane says stiffly, her ego shining.

"Jane, honestly?" Frost asks with a snort, unable to control the eye rolling that follows.

"Yes, honestly. I told you the story, you chose not to believe it," Jane replies simply, as if that explains everything.

"Fine, but where, in the name of hell, are you taking me? Don't tell me you're going to murder me in some dark alley all because I didn't believe your crazy nut—"

"We're going to the park," Jane says, cutting her friend off as they turn onto the familiar pebble path into the park.

"Why?"

"Why do you think, Frost? Did you even listen to my story?" Jane asks, pausing briefly to turn and stare at her friend, looking him directly in the eye.

"Yeah, but—"

"No, buts. You didn't believe me, now I'm going to show you."

"You cannot be serious," Frost mutters under his breath as Jane turns away and continues walking down the path, toward the old, forgotten part of the park where they usually hangout after school. He follows Jane in silence, the two walking a few paces apart through the park and stopping as they come to the familiar wooden picnic table, the bench and tabletop full of splinters.

Jane stops and turns around, facing Frost.

"Okay, we're here. Now what?" Frost asks impatiently, wondering if his friend really has gone off the deep end.

Jane turns her head and does a full rotation of the area around them.  
She halts, her head facing a distance away from them, her eyes locked on some old pipe.

"What's that?" Frost asks, realizing he's never noticed it before either.

"That's it," Jane says quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she slowly walks over to it, her feet dragging under her as if she's sleepwalking toward the object, being pulled to it by some supernatural power.

"That's it? What's it!?" Frost nearly shouts, following Jane hastily across the dying grass.

The two friends stand around the black pipe, staring at it like it's a piece of artwork.

"This is it," Jane replies softly, reaching forward and placing her fingertips on the cold steel.

Frost gasps when Jane's hand comes into contact with it, half of him expecting something completely odd to happen.  
But nothing does.  
Everything stays the same and Jane raises her head to look at Frost, a light smile tugging at her lips.

"Let me show you," Jane continues, her voice strangely soft and dreamy.

She can't help it, though.  
As she's standing there, her hand on the pipe, seconds away from a journey, her mind runs off.  
All of the memories from the day before rush back to her, playing on the blank screen of her mind like a movie.

The luscious yard, the huge house, everything that looked like it was out of some history book, and most of all, she could never forget Maura, or Ms. Isles.

That girl…  
There was something about her that was so interesting, something that made Jane turn her head back for a second glance.

And Jane can't shake the feeling of her heart fluttering as she contemplates going back for a visit.  
Just a short, little visit; it couldn't hurt anything.  
After all, she did kind of leave without even saying so much as a "Thanks."  
And that's just rude, right?

"Jane, it's a pipe," Frost states plainly, staring at his friend with an arched eyebrow.  
"What exactly are you hinting at?"

The smile on Jane's face widens, her lips curling upwards at the right corner as if she's hiding the world's best-kept secret at her fingertips.

"It's more than some pipe," Jane whispers, her words blowing away in the light breeze as the spring sun beats down on their bodies.

Frost crosses his arms and thinks for a minute before sighing and shaking his head in amusement.  
"Oh, right," he says, "this is the, what, time portal thing, right?"

Jane smiles larger, nodding lightly. "Uh-huh."

"Jane, I think you were right. You really are slowly losing your mind. Dude, what happened?"

Jane releases a sigh of annoyance and looks straight into Frost's eyes.  
"Look, I'm not lying. And I'm not crazy. I'll show you," she replies defiantly, unwilling to go down without a fight.

Frost is silent for a moment before his curiosity gets the best of him and he asks, "How?"

Jane glances down at the pipe, thinking for a moment.  
"Take my hand," she says, looking back up at Frost, extending her hand, palm up.

"Dude…" Frost says, staring at Jane's hand like it's a poisonous spider waiting to sink its teeth into his juicy flesh.

The two friends stare at each other for a moment, neither one of them moving an inch as the wind blows against them.  
Jane tries to convince Frost with her eyes, and Frost is merely searching for the loose nut that has fallen out of Jane's brain.

Frost sighs and looks down at the ground, breaking the eye contact as he shakes his head lightly.  
"No, Jane, you're mad! This is just crazy. I can't believe you've even led me this far. I mean, god dammit, I thought I was supposed to be the crazy one and now you come along and all of the sudden you claim you've gone back 100 years all by touching some dinky old pipe and you expect me to believe you? What kind of crack were you smoking? 'Cause seriously, it's not too good for you, especially when it knocks you so far off your rocker that you're crazier than me. I mean, Jane, this is just insane—"

Frost pauses as he raises his head from the ground, looking up after feeling a huge gust of wind whip against his body.

He looks up, expecting to see Jane's annoyed face since she always gets so annoyed when Frost runs off on his little tangents.  
But his eyes meet nothing more than the bushes twenty yards away, no Jane in sight.

"Jane?" he asks meekly to the air around him, turning his head side to side in vain. "Jane, come on, dude, this isn't funny. Where the hell did you go?"

No response besides a light breeze and a rustling of the leaves in the nearby oak trees.

"Ja-ane!" he calls in an irritated voice. "I'm sorry?" he tries in a softer tone, as if his apology will bring his friend back from… wherever the hell she vanished to.

"God damn you, Jane," Frost mutters under his breath as he saunters over to the picnic table and slumps onto the bench, leaning backwards and staring at the area where the pipe is sprouting out of the ground, standing a good 3 feet in the air as the fresh-looking paint glistens in the sunlight.

Sighing, he watches for a few moments before speaking to the air, as if Jane can hear him like she did nothing more than put on an invisibility cloak.

"Come on, Jane, I mean, I know I was ranting and all but that's no reason to fucking… vanish on me like that. I know I can get loud when I rant and all that, but seriously, I wasn't that far out of it to not notice you walk off or to not hear someone come over and snatch you away right in front of me. I'm not that blind or deaf… You just, like, vanished. Dude, that's not cool. So not cool, Jane!" he yells as the wind picks up again, whipping against his skin in a bitter breeze, causing the teenager to shudder once.

Frost's eyes widen and his jaw nearly drops to the ground as he sees Jane reappear at the pipe, her hand still clutching onto it as she regains her balance and glances around the park, almost dazed.

"J-Jane?" Frost asks weakly.

Jane turns to her friend, letting go of the pipe, and walks over to him, a huge fucking grin plastered on her face.

"I told you," is all Jane says in a smug voice as she drops herself onto the bench next to her best friend.

Frost can't help but smile at Jane's massive ego. "W-where the hell did you go?"

"1908."

Frost lets out an uneasy laugh, turning his head to look at Jane, a skeptical look on his face.

"No, I mean, really, where'd you go? You just, like… vanished," he tries again.

Jane chuckles and slugs Frost on his upper arm in a friendly manner. "I've given you my version of the truth," she replies simply, a sincere smile on her lips.

Frost sighs for about the thirtieth time that day and locks eyes with his friend.  
"You actually expect me to believe that you just traveled back in time 100 years?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You expect me to believe that, just like _that_, with no questions asked?"

Jane can't help but laugh as she stands up, Frost doing likewise.  
"I tried to bring you along but you refused."

"Because I thought you were lying," Frost says softly, yet honestly.

"But you believe me now?"

"Well… no."

Jane releases a heavy sigh and walks back toward the pipe, motioning for Frost to follow, which he does.

"Okay, let's try this again, Frost," Jane instructs, looking down at the black pipe.

"What… what do you mean?"

"If you won't believe me, then I'll have to show you," Jane says simply, as if time travel has suddenly become the most known and simple form of travel ever before seen or experienced.

Jane laughs at the look of pure fright on Frost's face, her friend's face paling drastically as he stares at the pipe in the ground with wide eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Frost, dude, come on, you don't even realize anything's changed until you look up and notice that everything is different. There's nothing here to piss your pants about, all right? You're not going to die, and your molecules won't get all rearranged or any shit like that," Jane says reassuringly, trying to persuade her friend into joining her on the ride.

"How do you know that?" Frost asks in a scared voice.

Puffing out her cheeks as she releases a heavy sigh, Jane replies honestly, "Okay, I don't know what happens to your molecules when this happens, but you won't die, I know that much. And you won't go through some sort of odd mutation, so really there's nothing to worry about. Come on, you have to at least take a little peek at the past… I mean, it looks like the pictures from our history books, just so much more… _real_."

Frost cogitates over his friend's words for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, imagining all of the endless possibilities of what could go wrong.

One major issue sticks out though: _We could end up stuck back in 1908_.  
That is, assuming that Jane isn't lying.

All the possible ifs weighing him down, he shakes his head and backs away, glancing first at the pipe and then at Jane's confused, yet disappointed, face.

"No," he says at first, taking a few more cautious steps backwards. "No, Jane, maybe you're not lying, but still… Assuming you're not, you can't just go back whenever the hell you damn well feel like! Think of the space-time continuum, or whatever they call it! You can't be jumping back and forth, taking your 21st century clothes and talk with you, think how much you could screw up the whole history of our world! I mean, my god, you could take something from nowadays, take it back then, tell them how it works, how it's made, and bam! Before you know it, they'll suddenly have cell phones by 1910! Jane, you can't do that! Think how much you're risking, ruining history, as we know it! God dammit, I'm talking like a madman, but honestly, if you're not lying, and I'm starting to feel that you're not. And assuming you're not totally crazy, then you could alter history without even knowing it!"

"Frost… man, calm down… I'm not trying to change history," Jane says softly, backing away from the pipe and toward her friend.

"Well, good! 'Cause you shouldn't try to! History is called history for a reason, Jane, it's happened; it's done; it's finished; complete, whatever the hell you wanna call it! But the point is, history is not supposed to change!"

Frost's final word hangs in the air for a moment before dissipating in the light breeze.

The two stare at each other for a moment, Frost's mouth hanging open as he regains his composure after yet another rant, and Jane stands there nearly dumbfounded.

"I'll be careful," is the only response Jane can manage to say in a quiet voice, like a little kid reassuring their mommy after being scorned for running into the street for a ball without looking both ways first.

"You mean you're seriously going back?" Frost asks in disbelief. "You seemed kind of freaked out about it this morning and now you're speaking of going back?"

Jane merely shrugs. "Maybe not today, but sometime."

"Why?" Frost peeps up after a moment.

Jane is silent for a moment, glancing back at the pipe and then back at her friend.  
Her cheeky smirk plays across her lips as she responds, "It's like having the world at your fingertips."

* * *

Some time had gone by and Jane had been a good little girl, staying put in the 21st century where she belongs. If she had things her way, she would've snuck out the other night for a small trip back in time, but Frost nearly had her under house arrest. Seriously, every time Jane mentioned she was going somewhere, she'd get the third degree from her friend.

But she couldn't help but be curious and eager to return.

The thought of going back makes the butterflies in her stomach fly around like pure maniacs.

When Jane falls asleep at night, majority of her dreams consist of her back in the early 1900s.  
And most of the time, her dreams involve Maura.

Yes, she dreams about Maura, or Ms. Isles, the beautiful young woman, who had taken Jane in during her first journey to the past.

Why?  
She's not sure.  
There's just something about Maura, something that makes her stand out in Jane's mind, something besides the fact that she's living a century back in time, but still, there's something there that Jane cannot ignore.

It's a feeling like she needs to see her smile, as if to see Maura's shining smile could make Jane melt into a pile of pudding.

Maybe this is what it's like when you make a friend, at least when you can't see that person every day.  
Maybe your mind takes off in ways of impressing them, ways to befriend them.

Yeah, that must be it, Jane decides.

And Maura is the only thing Jane can think about as she walks out the front door of her house at the break of dawn.  
This time, she was smart enough to leave a note for her family, simply saying she'd be out for most of the day.  
Skipping the bottom step and jumping onto the sidewalk, she scrambles toward the park, jogging every now and then as she gets more excited the closer she gets.

Of course she still has to return in her normal clothes; she doesn't have anything that even resembles the clothing from back in the early 1900s.

Maybe she'll have to borrow some of Maura's clothes again.

_I wonder if everything will be the same_, she wonders to herself as she begins her walk down the pebble path of the park.

She smiles to herself as she comes to the familiar old part of the park, her eyes immediately attaching to the black pipe.

Walking over to it, she stands there for a moment, merely staring as she imagines what waits for her on the other end.

She grasps the handle in her right hand and wiggles it harshly, the only way she's gotten it to work the other times.

Her smile widens as she feels the same huge gust of wind, and then she looks around at her surroundings.

The splintering picnic table is gone, the large oaks have been replaced, and the dying grass is fresh and young.  
She's in the middle of a luscious yard once again, vibrant green bushes and juicy shades of pink, white, and purple flowers shimmering around her.

Her face is ecstatic as she looks around the yard like a lost girl finally returning home.  
It just feels right being here, and her body keeps bringing her back, as if telling her she belongs here, no matter how much she sticks out like a sore thumb.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a familiar voice rings from behind Jane, sounding rather annoyed before pausing. "J-Jane?" the voice asks after a short moment of silence.

Jane turns around slowly, savoring the moment as she comes face to face with Maura a few yards away, locking eyes with the beautiful woman.

"Oh my, Jane!" Maura shouts happily as she breaks into a run and embraces Jane like a long lost friend.

Jane is stiff for a moment, but wraps her arms around Maura also, returning the hug.

"Hey," is all she is capable of saying as they pull away from each other.

The smile on Maura's face is priceless, like a little kid receiving an early birthday present.  
And Jane's smile is fairly similar, to be honest.

"You're back! It's been, oh, I'm not sure, but almost seven days, am I right? I nearly thought you might have left forever, but I suppose James was right. He's been saying that you would return," Maura says softly.

"Yeah, well, here I am," Jane replies lamely, unable to find any better phrase.

Maura chuckles before replying, "Yes, here you are, back in your atrocious clothing, I see. We need to fix that."

Without another word, Maura turns on her heels and walks back toward the huge stone house, motioning for Jane to follow her, which she willingly does.

However, this time, Maura and Jane weren't alone like they were the first time they met.  
Their little scene out in the middle of yard was not for their eyes only.  
No, much the contrary, two pairs of older eyes were watching the display of friendship through the living room window.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Aw, She Fell for Me **

Maura cautiously opens the front door, creaking it open lightly as to not be heard.  
Motioning for Jane to follow her lead and to stay quiet, the two enter the house, walking on tiptoes the whole time as they ascend the staircase, the lush carpet muffling their steps.

The two go into Maura's bedroom and Maura rummages through the top drawer of her dresser, extracting the same pair of trousers and old blouse that Jane had been given the week before.

"Here, you need these," Maura says softly, handing the clothes over to Jane while eying the girl's current attire.

"Thanks," Jane replies, taking the clothes from Maura.

Never feeling modest, Jane begins to strip right there in the middle of Maura's room, feeling no different than if she were in a locker room for gym. It doesn't matter what they see; they all have the same stuff anyways.

Maura gasps as she sees Jane pulling her shirt over her head, her toned body coming into view.  
She blushes like mad, blinking her eyes quickly and looking away.  
She tells herself to look away and tries to concentrate on staring at the wall, except she can't help but steal a few glances back at Jane, though seeing the teenager's muscular abs only causes her to turn a darker shade of scarlet.

After Jane is fully clothed, Maura turns back toward the girl and notices the discarded clothes lying on the floor.  
Releasing a sigh, she walks over and picks them up, folding the t-shirt and jeans nicely.

"What are these… _things_?" Maura asks curiously while folding Jane's t-shirt, feeling the material and running her fingers over a printed-on logo.

Jane looks up from buttoning her blouse to see Maura holding her shirt and smirks lightly, forgetting for a moment that such things don't even exist in this time.

"Oh, they're normal clothes. Really, I mean, where I come from, they're normal," Jane supplies, sliding the top button of the blouse through its hole.

"And where is that, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks in a playful voice, glancing over at Jane after laying the folded clothes at the foot of her bed.

"Some place far away is all I'm going to say for now," Jane replies with a tiny smile.

Maura shakes her head in amusement and walks past Jane and out into the hallway.  
She turns her head to look over her shoulder at Jane and she wiggles her eyebrows in a playful manner.  
"So you want to be mysterious, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks with a chuckle, her voice low.

Jane nearly melts under Maura's tone, her words sending shivers down her spine and the look in Maura's eyes…  
_Maybe this 1900s girl just doesn't know what seduction is_, Jane wonders to herself as she forces out an uneasy laugh.  
"Exactly, Ms. Isles."

"Maura Dorthea!" a voice rings out from the floor below, causing one woman to jump and the other to cringe.

Without wasting a second, Maura turns on her heels and rushes down the stairs, Jane following close behind.  
But Jane pauses as Maura enters the living room, noticing other people are there.

"Maura Dorthea, there you are," the same voice says.

Jane watches from outside the entrance to the room, her eyes peeking around the wooden doorframe to watch the scene.

The voice belongs to a woman standing near the window.  
She's clothed in a long, cream dress that hangs to the floor, the skirt full of ruffles.  
Her waist sinks in very distinctively, as if a corset is worn underneath the flowing dress.  
She stands up tall, her posture much like Maura's, perfectly defined and polished.  
And her skin, flawless like her daughter's as Jane first notices.

"Yes, Mother?" Maura asks, standing up tall as she locks eyes with her mother.

"Maura Dorthea, who was th—"

"Mother, please, remember what we discussed the other night, about what I would like to be called? Please, Mother, Maura Dorthea is unbearably stiff," Maura interrupts.

Her mother closes her eyes for a couple seconds, releasing a heavy sigh before continuing.  
"Maura, who was that lady you were speaking with in the garden?"

"Ms. Rizzoli."

"That lady was not Helen Rizzoli, or any of her children for that matter," another voice interjects, Jane now noticing a middle-aged man sitting in an armchair, a pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose come into view as he lowers a piece of parchment from in front of his face.

"Yes, Father, that was not Helen nor any of her children. She's not in relation to that Rizzoli family," Maura continues, smiling softly at her parents.

"Then who exactly is that lady?" her father asks, leaning forward in his chair.

"Her name is Jane Rizzoli, she's that woman I was telling you about," Maura says softly with a light smile.

"Oh, yes, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane!" a younger voice says, and Jane now notices James sitting on the floor next to the armchair, sitting in a position where just enough sunlight comes in through the window to illuminate the wooden toys in his hands. "She's that girl that Maura won't stop speaking of. Jane this, Jane that, pooh-pooh," James finishes in a tone of dislike, mimicking his sister's voice as high-pitched and rather girly.

Maura opens her mouth to object, but her mother beats her to it.

"James, language," she warns.

"Yes, Mother," James says with a heavy sigh as he places some square block on top of another.

"Now, Maura Dorthea— I mean Maura, your brother is partially correct. You have been speaking rather fondly of this lady for the past week. What do you know about her?" her mother asks, waving a fan over her face to stir the hot air in the room.

Maura shifts from foot to foot, looking down at the ground and wringing her hands nervously.  
"Not much, Mother," she replies honestly, her voice low.

Her mother releases a sigh and clucks her tongue in disappointment.  
"Maura Dorthea, you know I don't approve of you socializing with strangers," she says curtly.

"Mother, she is not a stranger," Maura replies in vain, knowing that she can't win this argument.  
She really doesn't know all that much about Jane, and does that not classify her as a stranger?

"Maura Dorthea—"

"Mother, you are always the one saying we should be generous to others. Ms. Rizzoli needed a place to stay so I offered her one during her stay. You would do the same," Maura interrupts, puffing out her chest.

The older woman is silent for a moment, trapped by her daughter's words.  
They are true, after all.

"Not until I would find out more about that person, Maura Dorthea. I do not open my doors to any stranger," she rebuttals.

Maura does not respond, only lowers her head in defeat.

"I would like for you to learn more about this lady before you go traipsing around town with her. She could be a ped—"

"Mother, she is not a peddler. That much I know," Maura speaks up.

Her mother purses her lips together before replying.  
"Yes, well, you best to make sure of that, Maura Dorthea."

"Yes, Mother."

She takes a long glance out the window before stating, "You are free to leave, Maura Dorthea."

Maura nods her head once and backs out of the room and into the main hallway, out of view of anyone in the living room.  
She faces Jane and smiles at her lightly.

"Did you hear all of that, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks in embarrassment.

Jane shrugs. "A bit," she lies.

Maura begins walking toward the back of the house, expecting Jane to follow her.  
Which she does, still like a puppy following its owner.

The two woman exit through what appears to a back door to the house and emerge into the sunlight once again.

"I'm sorry if you heard more than you should have," Maura says after they're well into the yard, walking side by side. "Mother can be a bit… apprehensive at times."

Jane shrugs and replies reassuringly, "All mothers are."

"She's worried that you're a peddler or some bad person, as if you're only here to ransack our home and leave us all waiting for the dead," Maura says with a chuckle.

Jane forces herself to laugh, too.

"You're not someone like that, are you, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura can't help but ask to be on the safe side.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm just your normal teenage gal," Jane finishes lamely, wondering where the hell she's getting such lame phrases.

"Hmm," Maura says, a powerful silence lying over the two as they walk around the back yard.  
They come to a bench in a shady area beneath a large tree.  
Maura takes a seat, motioning for Jane to do likewise.  
"Where exactly are you from, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks after a few minutes, her mother's words getting to her.

Jane releases a sigh and squints up at the sun.  
"You wouldn't believe me."

Maura chuckles and replies, "Try me, Ms. Mysterious."

Jane shakes her head. "No, I mean, really, Maura, you wouldn't believe me."

"Well, it can't be anything worse than what James suggested. I know you're not a forest woman, so it can't be too bad unless you're—"

"I," Jane interrupts, cutting Maura off.  
Though, she doesn't continue.

"You what, Jane?" Maura asks, pushing for Jane to continue.

Jane lets out another sigh and looks down at the ground.  
"I'm from the future," Jane says quietly, her voice weak and not very persuasive at all.

She jumps when she hears Maura laugh rather loudly.  
Jane looks over to her side to see Maura's body shuddering with laughter, her shoulders shaking violently as she gasps for air, her cheeks squishing upward, her eyes nothing more than two tiny slits, and tears start rolling from the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, oh, oh my," she stutters while attempting to regain her composure, taking large breaths and wiping at her eyes, a huge grin still plastered to her face, her adorable smile shining.

"Are you alright?" Jane asks, rubbing her hand on Maura's back in circles, unable to stop the few laughs that erupt from her own body.

Maura nods and releases a sigh.  
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she replies after a moment.

"Oh, my, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura continues, looking straight at Jane, their deep brown and hazel eyes locking with each other.  
"Don't tell me you are one of those time traveler conspirators."

Jane looks away, blinking a couple times.  
_Of course she doesn't believe me, who would?  
It's crazy.  
I'm crazy._

"Uh, no," Jane replies after a moment, deciding that for now, a little white lie couldn't hurt.

"Good," Maura says softly, looking out at the yard.  
"Quite a handful of them are being sent away for help. They are being labeled as insane, you know, like they've lost their sanity. The poor lads… some of them actually claim they have traveled through time," Maura says with a laugh.

Jane laughs also, though she can't help but feel a pang of fright.  
"Yeah, crazy folks," Jane adds on quietly.

"So, where are you really from, then?" Maura asks after another few moments of silence pass.

"Oh, a little town not too far away," she says softly.

"Oh, okay," Maura says, not feeling the need to press any further.  
Jane is a good woman; she can feel it.

* * *

"Are you sure you should be up there?" Jane asks in a trembling voice as she looks up at the branches of a tree, her eyes following Maura along the treetop as she stands at the trunk, standing on guard in case the worst happens and she needs to break someone's fall.

It's a sunny day in mid-April, and Jane is back in the 1900s once again.  
She's been coming and going about once a week, dropping in for visits on the weekends while claiming to be at some lame music convention with some friends, while really she's taking a short little journey through time.

Frost is still skeptical about the whole thing; though, he's starting to believe Jane the more times he sees his friend vanish while standing at that pipe in the park.

As for Maura, she is under the impression that Jane leaves for home and comes back into town the next weekend for a day together.  
Why?  
She's not sure, but their friendship is growing and Maura doesn't have too many friends in the first place.

Well, okay, honestly she wishes it were something a little more than a friendship, but she knows such dreams are only foolish.

Maura has never been very attracted to the male gender.  
Sure, she's seen some handsome men, but not a single boy nor man has had the effect on her heart that some of the women are capable of.

She's completely aware of her feelings, and how they're different from the norm, but she can't acknowledge that.  
No, it's not allowed.  
She'd most likely be disowned, a thought she doesn't ever want to brush upon.

And being 17, a prime age, her parents have already tried marrying her off a couple times.  
Much to her parents' surprise, she has turned down each wealthy, handsome young man.

In the meantime, her heart is occupied lusting after someone else, a particular brown locked young woman to be a little more specific.

Every time she sees the familiar wild hair and clothing appear in her yard, her heart seems to grow wings and flutter around in her chest, making it quite difficult to stay balanced as she tries to hold herself back from sprinting outside and attacking the girl.

"Maura, you alright up there?" Jane's voice rises in the wind and reaches Maura's ears as she holds onto the branch of one of the huge trees outside of their house.

She glances down and her eyes immediately fall on Jane standing below her.  
Jane is standing there, looking straight up at Maura, a look of worry accompanying her face.

Okay, so the branch that Maura is on isn't that high in the air, but it would still leave quite the bruise if she were to lose her grip and tumble to the ground.

"Yes, Jane, I'm fine," she yells back in response.

She looks a few feet in front of her and sees her target: James' kite.

With shaking arms, she crawls along the broad branch, her dress snagging on the bark, but she ignores it.  
She's already up here; it would be pointless to return to the ground without the kite.

Once within distance, she reaches forward with her left hand and shakes the kite free from the tree, yanking the tail out of a knot of leaves and twigs.  
The kite soars to the ground within seconds and Maura watches as James runs over and picks it up, a huge smile on the young boy's face as he runs around the yard with the kite, letting go of it and trying to make it stay in the air despite the current lack of wind.

Turning her eyes away from James, they fall back upon Jane underneath her.

"So now what are you going to do, Ms. Isles?" Jane asks with a chuckle, speaking in one of her best foreign accents, the way they seem to speak in movies at the turn of the century.

Maura only laughs at her friend's ridiculous voice.  
Who is she trying to impersonate anyways?

"Well, I plan on coming down, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura replies with an obvious smirk.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?"

Maura looks around and then down at the ground, a feeling rising in the pit of her stomach as a sudden fear of heights seems to overcome her. She doesn't respond to Jane, but begins moving along the branch toward the trunk of the tree, her arms shaking the entire time.

Before she knows what's happening, her footing slips, her hand slides and she's free falling through the air, releasing a squeal.

She closes her eyes in fear of hitting the ground and is surprised to feel her back land on two bony structures rather than solid earth.  
She opens her eyelids to find herself looking into a pair of rather familiar brown eyes.

Maura runs her eyes across her savior's face, skirting around the features and ending up focused on the light smile on the girl's lips.

Her heart beats faster than it did while she was falling and she forces herself to look away from Jane's lips.

"Are you okay, Ms. Isles?" Jane asks in a kind, yet playful, voice.  
She loves to act like she's actually from this century, addressing her friend by her surname rather than her first name.  
It makes her feel… authentic.

Maura nods, her cheeks flushing as she stares at Jane, biting her lip as she tries to calm her racing heart.  
Her heart always seems to beat on any little bit of hope.

"Yes, I'm… safe now, Ms. Rizzoli, thank you," Maura says softly, her eyes absentmindedly running across Jane's face once again.

"Good," Jane says softly.  
She smiles, her own eyes swimming about Maura's face and across each feature, her own heart seeming to take off with a mind of its own as she holds Maura safe in her arms, resembling the way in which a groom would carry a bride.

A minute goes by of both of them doing nothing more than studying each other's faces, as if attempting to read the other.

"Jane, you can put me down now," Maura says softly after some time, looking away from Jane and around the yard instead.

"Oh, yeah, right, right," Jane responds in a rushed tone, immediately placing Maura's feet on the ground and letting go of her body.

Maura stands up tall and smooths out her dress, and brushing at a few none existent specks of dirt here and there.  
She smiles at Jane, her lips soft and the smile sincere.

"Thank you for… catching me," she says quietly.

Jane smiles in return, and responds with a laugh, "Anytime."  
_Aw, she fell for me_, Jane thinks classically, trying to hide a smirk.

After a few moments, Maura clears her throat and asks politely, "Would you like to stay for dinner tonight, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane looks up at the sky, noting the sun slowly falling and knowing that soon it will be hidden beyond the horizon, tucked away for sleep.

"I'm sorry, I'd love to, really, but my mom might freak if I don't get home early tonight," she says, using her mom as an excuse.

"Oh, okay," Maura replies softly, still stunned by this woman's odd use of language.  
_Freak? What ever does that mean?_

And as if on cue, the voice of Maura's mother rings out across the yard, "James! Maura Dorthea! Time to wash up for dinner!"

Maura glances at the house and then back at Jane, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.  
"Well, I should leave," she says with a heavy sigh, hating the thought of departing with Jane so early. "Will you visit soon, Jane?"

Jane smiles and nods her head, "Of course."

Maura smiles and leans forward, placing the tiniest of pecks upon Jane's cheek, her lips brushing the soft skin ever so lightly.

"Thanks again for catching me," she says after pulling away.  
Without another word, she turns and walks away toward her house.

* * *

Jane enters the Rizzoli house some time later, her heart still skipping a beat as she recalls the sensation of Maura's lips brushing against her cheek in a thank you. She feels herself smiling like a fool as she walks into the living room, completely unaware of her surroundings.

"Jane?"

She breaks out of her haze and looks to her left to find her younger brother, Frankie, sitting on the couch, a kid's magazine in his hands.

"Hmm?" she asks, only acknowledging his existence with a grunt.

She watches him stare at her, his eyes scanning her body from head to toe followed by the arching of one eyebrow.

"What the heck are you wearing?" he asks, unable to control a giggle from escaping as he stares at his older sister.

"Huh?" Jane asks before looking down at her body.  
Her eyes widen as she realizes she's still dressed in the blouse and trousers Maura had given her.  
"Oh shit!" she yells before sprinting up the stairs to her room, about ready to die from embarrassment and stupidity.

* * *

Although one woman fell asleep that night with worry etched onto her face, her thoughts swimming with the thought of what might happen to her clothing that's sitting in a house in a different time, the other woman fell asleep completely content.

Maura Isles lied down in her bed that night, tucked securely under the covers with a light smile on her face.

Instead of hugging her quilt tightly, she was holding onto a 21st century t-shirt, the soft material rubbing against her cheek as she settled in for the night.

She fell asleep with a memento of the future in her hands, and the scent of Jane Rizzoli filling her nose with each shallow breath she took.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. It means so much to me and motivates me to update faster. I hope everyone is enjoying my story. Also, I got a story cover picture for my story, but you can still make me a banner if you want. Again, thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Like a Rainbow on a Rainy Day **

"Ms. Rizzoli, these garments are ridiculous!" Maura squeals as she walks into the middle of her bedroom, coming into view for Jane.

Jane laughs hysterically as she looks her friend up and down.

She has to admit, Maura does look awfully adorable in her clothes.

Maura twirls around the middle of the room with a giddy smile adorning her face, acting like a little kid playing dress up with their mommy's clothes as she spans her arms out to the side.

Maura keeps on spinning, laughing along the way as she wonders what kind of life Jane lives, wondering if every person in Jane's community dresses in strange clothing or if she just does it to stand out.

After a few more spins, she falls to the ground, the smile still plastered to her face as she tries to make her head stop spinning so much, trying to make her room come back into focus.

"Does everyone wear clothes like this?" Maura asks, looking up at Jane who is standing near the window, her arms crossed against her chest as she smiles down at the girl in her clothes.

"What do you mean?" Jane asks, tilting her head to the side in question.

"Where you live, where you come from. Wherever that is, Ms. Mysterious, does everyone dress in these… strange garments, or is it only you who does so?" Maura questions, pulling at the shirt on her body. It's so different from her normal washed-out blue dress; she can't help but feel like she's in a whole different world.

Jane smirks before responding, "Nearly everyone, it's almost completely casual from where I come from."

"Oh," Maura says softly, looking down at her lap where her hands are absentmindedly fooling with the hem of the shirt, twisting it between her fingers.

A few moments pass before Maura asks in a small voice, "Do you ever stand out?"

Jane shrugs. "Sometimes," she says softly.

Maura nods silently, her vision going unfocused as mixed thoughts fill her head.  
She's always seemed to stand out amongst a crowd, no matter how hard she and her parents try to make her conform like almost every other girl her own age.

She's always stood out like a rainbow on a rainy day, contrasting with the ordinary backdrop of everyone else. It wasn't her appearance, but more of the way she acted. Her clothing is like all the rest, crisp and clean. Her family is known, and money is no issue.

But she is just so different than anybody else.

And that's only the outside, the shell that everybody can see and know.  
The inside is a different story all its own.

No one knows of her internal differences, the way her thoughts work, the feelings she has for all the wrong people.  
But it's these feelings that will forever separate her from other girls her age in this time, for it's unconventional to have such feelings toward a being of the same gender.

She's never heard of such situations ever occurring in real life, and she wonders if she's the first girl to ever feel such a way toward another girl.

However, she can slightly recall once hearing a rumor about a similar happening, though that girl was never seen nor heard of ever again, once the truth had made it out into the open. The thought of that happening to her is enough to keep Maura's lips sealed for eternity.

She already stands out enough.  
There's no reason to add yet more weight to the leaning tower of Pisa.

"Hey Maura, you okay?" Jane asks, walking over and kneeling down in front of her friend, bringing the young woman out of her thoughts as she waves her hand in front of Maura's face.

Maura shakes her head lightly, shooing away her thoughts as she smiles up at Jane.  
"Yes, I'm fine, Ms. Rizzoli," she says softly, covering up her insecurities with a smile and sparkling eyes.

Jane can tell that something is off with the beautiful young woman, but she ignores it, seeing as Maura already is.

Pushing away her troublesome thoughts, Maura stands up from the floor, her dizziness long gone, and goes about extracting her normal clothes from the dresser drawer. Feeling a bit dangerous, she dares herself to change where she is. After all, this is her room anyways.

As she pulls Jane's 21st clothing off of her body, her skin being kissed by the spring air around her, she's incapable of ignoring the pair of dark brown eyes that have fallen upon her skin, watching her every movement like a cat watching a mouse.

She smiles, at the thought of Jane watching her.  
But her happiness is quickly washed away as she realizes that nothing can ever come of it.  
Though, she doubts her feelings are to ever be returned from someone as beautiful as Jane.

* * *

"So, Ms. Rizzoli, what do you do for a living?" Maura asks, turning her head to the side as she lies in the grass, smiling up at the woman with the brown unruly locks who is sitting Indian-style a foot or so away.

It's mid-afternoon on a Saturday, and Maura dragged Jane to some grassy field not too far from the her home.  
The sun is high in the sky, shining its rays down onto the earth and lighting the day, though the clouds are hanging alongside the sun, occasionally blocking the light and casting shadows across the land below.

Jane glances down at the young woman lying in the grass next to her, a soft smile appearing on her lips.  
She's learned over the past month, give or take a few days, that not smiling is near impossible around Ms. Maura Isles.  
To not smile around Maura is the same as going to a carnival and never once breaking into a laugh nor even a smile.

"Well, I don't have a job, if that's what you mean," Jane responds quietly, taking a moment to squint up at the sun, wondering if it's the same sun that she looks up at back home, 100 years in the future.

"Oh, so do you attend school, or are you apprenticing at an occupation?" Maura asks, also looking up at the graying sky, her brow furrowing in sadness as the sun hides behind an ominous cloud.

Jane smiles at the second part of the question, reminding herself that such things are only not popular in her time; in Maura's time, apprenticing is nothing out of the ordinary. "I'm a student," she says, though she's definitely not a lover of school and all of the horrors that go along with it.

"Me too," Maura says with a smile, loving that she's lucky enough to attend school.  
"School is so fascinating, is it not?" she asks eagerly.

Jane grimaces. "Not really."

"You don't like learning, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks skeptically.

"Learning isn't the problem. The homework is," she clarifies.

"Homework… we don't have much of that."

Jane laughs and shakes her head in amusement.  
"No, you probably don't. It's just a new form of torture that the teachers and professors inflict on the students at my school."

"Oh, I see," Maura says, though she clearly doesn't follow.  
"Your school sounds dreadful."

"It is," Jane says with a laugh.

"So does your father want you to follow his career path?" Maura asks.

"Uh, no, not really" Jane says, bowing her head.

"No? I thought all parents seem to be forcing their children to follow them into the bus—"

"My dad doesn't live with us anymore," Jane interrupts, cutting off what she knows will only turn into one of Maura's tangents.

A bewildered look takes over Maura's face. "What do you mean, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane sighs, hating to talk about such things but not wanting to avoid the topic and look like a coward.  
"My parents are divorced, that's all," she says.

"Divorced? Is that when the—"

"When the parents get a legal separation and are no longer bonded by marriage. Yeah. That," she says.

"Oh," Maura says, noticing the hurt in Jane's voice she adds on, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, he left years ago," Jane finishes, looking at Maura and forcing on an inevitable smile.

A few minutes pass, the sky darkening all the while as the amount of clouds in the sky seem to multiply in both quantity and size.

"I can't imagine growing up without Father," Maura says softly, breaking into the silence that had fallen upon them.

Jane doesn't respond, for she has nothing to say.

Though, a drop of rain falls upon her arm and she looks up at the sky only to receive a raindrop directly on her eye.

"Ah, fuck no," she mutters under her breath as a few more drops fall from the clouds, like tears falling from the sky.

Maura releases a squeal and jumps up quickly, hating when unwanted rain soaks her clothes.  
"Oh, I hate rain!" she nearly yells, glaring up at the sky as if her glare will stop the rain from continuing.

In defiance, the rain begins to fall harder, the drops immediately soaking through the girls' clothes and drenching their hair.

Looking around for a place to hide, some sort of shelter to use to protect them from the sudden downpour, Jane catches sight of something off in the distance and grabs hold of Maura's hand, dragging her along with her like two little kids running through a field, hand in hand.

"Come on," Jane says, breaking off into a run and forcing Maura to run with her across the drooping grass as the rain falls against their bodies.

"Ms. Rizzoli, where are you taking me?" Maura yells after Jane who is a few paces ahead of her, her voice competing against a roar of thunder.

"You'll see!" Jane yells back in response, glancing over her shoulder at Maura, a smile on her face as she continues running across the grassy field and never taking her eyes off the destination in the distance as she returns to looking in front of her.

After what feels like a marathon run, the two women come to a white, wooden shed hidden amongst the trees at the edge of the field, forgotten by the rest of the world and left for a moment like this.

Jane steals a glance at Maura and sees the grateful look on the girl's face, not hesitating another second before taking a few more steps and wrenching open the shed door that releases a painful groan as if not being opened for several years.

They duck inside, their hands still intertwined as they come in out of the rain, thankful for such a crappy construction that wasn't good enough for some other purpose, though it's perfect for hiding from the weather.

They're both breathing heavily as they enter and look around, noticing they are alone besides a few rusting garden tools that have long been forgotten.

Though the entire shed is rickety and the roof has numerous leaks, it easily weakens the amount of rain falling on the two of them.

After regaining her breath, Maura looks down and notices her hand still secured tightly in Jane's, their fingers wrapped between one another, and she can't control the blush that crawls upon her cheeks.

Jane watches the young woman opposite her blush and then she realizes the weight still in her hand.  
She, too, blushes lightly and quickly retracts her arm, letting Maura's hand fall through the air as she mutters a quick, "Sorry."

Maura looks up, her eyes locking with Jane's.  
A look of undeniable hurt shoots across Maura's face as her hand falls back to its natural position at her side.

The sound of the rain pitter-pattering against the roof fills their ears, drowning out their own thoughts as the two young women stand there facing one another, their eyes dancing around the other's features and drinking up the radiance glowing off the other's skin.

Her thoughts drowned out and all traces of logic apparently left far behind in the 21st century, Jane leans forward, inching her way closer and closer to Maura with each millisecond until her lips securely fall upon a soft surface.

A second of astonishment controls both women, and they are still for a moment, neither one knowing what to do, until the fluttering hearts in their chests persuade them to press harder.

Jane moves her lips slightly, tilting her head for a better angle.

The kiss is soft and light, not much pressure, though overflowing with emotions.

After a minute, Maura pulls away only to find herself pressed against the wall of the shed.  
"Ms. Rizzoli…" she breathes heavily, her inhales and exhales audible despite the tapping rain and the frequent roar of thunder.

Jane smiles lightly, the right corner of her mouth curling upward into her signature smirk.  
Without another word, she leans forward once more and attaches her lips to Maura's in their rightful position.

Never before has a kiss felt so right in her life.  
Never before has a kiss sent so many thoughts flying through her mind nor so many emotions running haywire through her body.

Their kiss deepens this time, their lips parting as they both silently beg for more.

Their bodies are pressed close together, their limbs fitting together perfectly as they both move their hands around each other's body frantically, pulling the other body closer and closer, attempting to rid of all the space between them, though none seems to exist any longer.

Maura pulls away once again, unable to believe that this is real.  
She pulls back and stares directly into Jane's eyes, searching for some sign of this being fantasy, a dream at best.

Ending up with no visible faults, she asks softly, "Am I dreaming, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane laughs lightly and cups Maura's cheek in her hand, studying the young woman's face like she's never seen it before, taking in the slightly parted lips, the dazed look in her eyes, and the raindrops that are lined upon her brow and dripping off the tip of her nose.

Of course, she can't control the smile that creeps onto her lips.  
She shakes her head and responds, "No, Ms. Isles, you're not dreaming."

Before Maura even has a chance to react, not even time enough for a smile to form, her lips are bombarded once again by Jane's in a lush kiss.

In no time, Jane raises her eyelids only to find that she's the one pushed up against a wall, her back firmly pressed against the rotting wood of the shed as Maura presses her own body against her, clearly taking dominance over Jane, something terribly new to the brown locked girl; she's always in charge in the relationships.

They both pull away at the same time, leaning their upper bodies backwards from the hips up, their lower bodies staying smashed together. Jane has her arms wrapped snug around Maura's waist, her hands clasped and resting on the small of Maura's back. Maura is clutching onto Jane's upper arms, her hands holding onto the biceps that lie hidden beneath the soaked, see-through layer of white material. Their clothes are completely soaked from the dying rain they were in a few mere minutes before, and the wet material clings to their bodies, making their skin almost visible to the naked eye.

They stay like this for several minutes, held protectively in the other's grasp as their foreheads lean against one another, their breaths ragged as they both try to calm their excited hearts. The space between them is in the form of a diamond, their chests inches apart, but their bodies touching at their hips and foreheads.

"Ms. Rizzoli…" Maura says with a heavy breath, the name falling from her lips with so much love.  
To please her jumping heart, she repeats with a toothy grin, "Ms. Rizzoli…"

Jane chuckles and adjusts her arms around Maura's waist, though never letting go.  
"Do you like saying my name, Ms. Isles?" she asks with a smirk.

"Quite a bit, actually, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura responds, and shies away with a blush as she ducks her head.

An unbeatable silence falls upon them once more, the rain still dropping along the roof and echoing as the little drops speed down the sides of the shed and into growing puddles on the ground.

"Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura says once more, though this time her voice is raised in question.

Jane furrows her brow, tilting her head to the side as she responds, "Yes, Maura?"

Maura takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for strength before parting her lips to ask in a soft voice, "Do you… fancy me, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane smiles, her teeth shining in the dim shadows of the shed.  
She leans forward, running the side of her face along Maura's until her lips are next to her companion's ear.  
Parting her lips to speak, she responds in a whisper, "If fancy means like, then I do."

Ms. Isles smiles at the words and pushes Jane back so her face is in front of her own, in a key position for her to close the distance between them in another kiss, their lips crashing together and vivifying the butterflies in their stomachs as a tingling sensation encompasses their bodies, their hearts beating dangerously fast.

After pulling away, overwhelmed by the feelings and emotions running on high in her body, Maura falls against Jane, snaking her arms around Jane's back and embracing her in a tight hug that asks for protection and love in return.

With Maura's head resting against her chest, the need for another kiss diminishes as Jane tightens her grip around Maura's waist, as if reassuring that she's here. She lightly rests her head on top of Maura's and angles her head awkwardly to place a butterfly kiss to the top of the head beneath her chin, her lips brushing upon the soft honey blonde hair.

Time begins to tick by, no words said and no sounds made besides the raindrops outside of the shed, their sound becoming more and more distant as the rain begins to die and rays of sunlight leak in through the slits between the wood of the shed, falling upon the women in slim lines, illuminating their affection with its golden radiance.

Jane looks into the sunlight that has fallen on the floor of the shed and she begins to move.  
Maura merely holds on tighter in objection, knowing that the second they walk out of the shed, the closer they will be to returning home.

The moment they reach the outside world, the closer they come to separation.  
Maura grips even tighter, burying her face in Jane's chest and ignoring the wet cloth that sticks to her skin uncomfortably.  
For she knows that when they separate, Jane will return to her home and Maura won't see her for another week.

"Will you be gone for another week?" Maura asks in a quiet tone, sounding much like a heartbroken child.

Jane can't fight the grip that follows.  
She, too, doesn't wish to leave so soon, but she can't stay in the past forever.  
She has a life back home, a family, friends, school…

"No," she says softly. "Actually it won't be a week. I'll be back sooner then you'd think."

"Really? Why the sudden change?" Maura asks.

"School's off this week for spring break," Jane says with pure happiness, remembering the glorious week that's crossed off on her calendar with big, red X's.

"Spring break? Like, for what, for planting and such? Do you live on a farm, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks curiously, still refusing to pull away in fear of the day returning to normal.

"No, no, nothing like that. We just have a week off for resting and religious purposes and stuff like that. I don't live on a farm," Jane clarifies, and she grimaces at the thought of herself in a pair of overalls, moving mounds of hay with a pitchfork.

"Mm," Maura says in response, not really having anything more to say.  
She closes her eyes in the silence that follows and listens to the heart beating inside the chest below her ear, her lips curling into a smile.

After a few moments of listening to the monotonous thumping of Jane's heart, she asks softly, "Can I ever visit your home, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane sighs at the thought, trying to imagine Maura walking through her house.  
And then the reality of the thought sinks in.

"I don't know," Jane says hesitantly. She'd love for Maura to come home with her, but that's… 100 years in the future. "Maybe," she adds on.

Maura smiles as she tries to imagine what Jane's family looks like, wondering if her parents and siblings wear the same type of clothes as Jane, or if they're like all of the other normal people in society, dressing and acting as if only to impress everyone else.

Jane attempts maneuvering their bodies from the wall of the shed once again, and this time she doesn't receive any resistance.  
She kisses the top of Maura's head once again before unwinding her arms from the girl's waist, taking hold of Maura's soft hand instead.

"Come on," Jane says softly, kicking open the door of the shed with the toe of her shoe. "My mom wants me home before dinner," she adds on as they emerge into the day, the sunlight blinding them as they squint at the outside world that lies embraced in the light after the storm, as if renewed by the mere sunlight.

They walk back across the grassy field, hand in hand, as their clothes begin to dry in the blinding light, their hearts racing at the thought of what's to come of their newfound relationship.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Are You Lost, Ms. Isles? **

"Tell me about your family, Jane," Maura whispers, her voice dripping with fatigue as she yawns and tries to cover her mouth with the back of her hand. Jane smiles, though she has no choice, she's always smiling around Maura.

The two women are resting on Maura's bed, facing one another while lying on their sides, their hands tucked nicely underneath their heads as they fight to keep their eyes open, fighting against their last day together before Jane starts school again.

Jane has been coming and going frequently, though she managed to lie to her mom about sleeping over for a couple nights at a couple of friend's houses. Obviously, she was nowhere near them, or their house, for that matter. Rather, Jane has been hiding out 100 years back in time, staying in the hospitality of the Maura's family. The two have been growing fairly close with their long days spent together, walking through town and enjoying each other's company as Maura makes note to show Jane all of these little forests and fields that lie not too far from the house that serve no purpose to the citizens, though they are perfect getaways for a secret kiss.

"What do you want to know?" Jane says in a soft tone, the fatigue also noticeable in her cracking voice as she reaches across the gap between them and runs her hand down the side of Maura's face, cupping her cheek in her warm hand.

"Hmm, do you have any siblings, Jane?" Maura asks, her eyelids fluttering shut against her will.

Releasing a yawn, she responds, "I have a little brother, not too older than James."

"Hmm," Maura breathes out in response, barely audible as her breathing becomes longer; her chest rising and falling in the manner that signals one has fallen asleep.

Jane sighs gently, hating to leave already, but she does have school in the morning; she needs some rest in her own bed.

Leaning forward, she places a butterfly kiss to Maura's soft lips.  
"Sweet dreams," she says in a whisper as she maneuvers her way out of the bed, trying her best not to wake Maura.

She succeeds and stumbles into her normal clothes.  
Taking one last glance at the girl sleeping in the bed, she smiles and slowly creaks open the bedroom door.

The hallway is dark, but she's already accustomed to sneaking down the long corridor in the middle of the night.  
She makes her way down the staircase and out the front door, so focused on staying quiet that she fails to notice the honey blonde girl creeping along the corridor behind her, watching curiously as she follows on tiptoes, her bare feet silenced by the lush carpet.

Jane emerges into the night and jogs across the grass, coming to halt at the familiar post in the ground.  
She wraps her hand around the handle as normal and throws one last longing glance at the house behind her.

All the while, Maura is slowly walking from the edge of the lawn toward Jane; her head quirked to the side as she wonders what Jane is doing with the object she's seen her father use to extract water from the earth before.

Jane jiggles the handle; ready to return home when a voice catches in her ears.

"Jane, what ever are you do—"

She whips her head around just in time to see Maura's large eyes as she is drawn into the future, the scene of Maura and the 1900s house literally disappearing from her vision as they're quickly replaced by the dying shrubs a few yards away, the splintering picnic table, and the dead grass beneath her feet.

Everything falls into place as the wind dies down and the silence of the night fills her ears.  
Her wide eyes slowly fall back to their normal size as she sinks to the ground, leaning against the pole for support.

"Shit!" she hisses under her breath, burying her head in her hands to stop the tears that dare to fall from her eyes at the mental image of Maura standing on the lawn in her night clothes, a look of utter horror on her face as she saw Jane… vanish, probably. She's assuming it looked like she just vanished, though she doesn't know for sure; she's always been the one doing the vanishing and such. Maybe she dissolves into dust particles or something; she doesn't know.

Taking a few deep breaths and reassuring herself that Maura will decide that she was only dreaming, she stands up and leaves the park, walking, with wobbly legs, back to her home in the 21st century.

* * *

As always, the first day back to school after a weeklong break is very exhausting for every student. No matter how much rest you may get over the break, you're still dead come that Monday morning, and the entire school is like a building bursting with walking zombies.

And for Jane, the morning is no different.  
She walks from class to class in a sort of haze, daydreaming frequently throughout the day and staring out the windows from various classrooms, the only time that nature actually seems interesting.

Come 5th period, Jane is sitting at her desk in her World Cultures class, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand as her mouth hangs ajar, her eyes focused on the cars whizzing past on the main road in front of the school, her mind incredibly far away from whatever the teacher is discussing.

A loud honk startles her and brings her slightly back to reality as she sits up straighter, blinking her eyes and closing her mouth.

Taking a glance at the intersection right outside of the school is the same car that honked, and she catches sight of the cause of a few delayed honks that follow.

Attempting to cross the street is a young woman, no older than Jane, with perfect honey blonde hair, dressed in a crisp, white dress.

To be honest, she looks a lot like…

Jane's eyes widen and she shoots up out of her seat, her chair slamming back against the desk behind her with a loud clang.  
The eyes of her peers and the teacher all fall on her, but she doesn't seem to notice.  
Without even muttering a word, she grabs her backpack and darts out of the classroom, leaving behind a room full of questions.

Within seconds, Jane is sprinting down the hall, down one flight of steps and she shoves past the front doors of the school, emerging into the daylight, despite the calls of a couple hall monitors.

She looks around and, much to her dismay, sees the traffic moving peacefully once again.

But not too far away stands the same girl, turning around in circles like a lost little puppy.

"Are you lost, Ms. Isles?" Jane shouts across the distance in between her and the disoriented human.

The girl stops turning and focuses her attention directly on Jane.  
After taking a split second for her mind to see past the confusion, a smile of relief fills her face.

"Jane!" the girl yells and sprints across the front lawn of the school, an ecstatic smile plastered on her lips.  
She crosses the distance and throws her arms around Jane's back, burying her head in Jane's chest as if to hide her from the cruel world that has surrounded her.

Jane wraps her arms around Maura's waist, naturally falling into place as she rests her head on top of Maura's in a familiar position.  
She gives the top of Maura's hair a light kiss, though Maura tilts her head up and silently asks for a kiss, not caring where they are; she's scared and a reassuring kiss might be the right remedy to calm her nerves at a time like this.

Jane complies, leaning forward and attaching her lips to Maura's in a soft kiss, letting Maura know that everything's all right.

After pulling away, Maura falls back against Jane's chest, clinging to Jane's body tightly.

"Maura… what are you doing here?" Jane asks after a couple minutes, disbelief in her voice.  
There's no way she can be talking to someone born in… 1890 in the year 2008.  
Impossible.

"Where am I?" is all Maura manages to say in response.

Jane laughs lightly, thinking of a way to phrase the answer that won't make Maura totally freak, but she ends up empty-handed.

"Jane, where am I?" Maura repeats once more, her voice showing that she's on the verge of tears as she stands there in Jane's arms, despite the protection.

"You wouldn't believe me," Jane says softly.

"I'm willing to believe quite a bit at this point, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura retorts, using Jane's surname, showing that she's not fooling around right now.

Jane sighs lightly and says in a quiet voice, "Well… this is my home."

Maura pulls away and looks at Jane's face and then at the building behind them, obviously flustered by Jane's words.  
"You live here?" Maura asks curiously.

Jane glances at the school and catches on to Maura's understanding.  
She chuckles and shakes her head in the negative.  
"No, that's not what I meant. I mean… this is my… _time_," she says softly, looking into Maura's eyes as if staring at the woman will make her understand.

Maura furrows her brow in confusion and asks, "You're time? What do you mean, Ms. Rizzoli? And what are all of these… these, oh I don't know what they are, but I swear they have tried to kill me at least twenty times since I have arrived!"

Jane smirks as she watches Maura ramble on and on, motioning back toward the road at the moving cars, or death traps as Maura probably sees them.

"And no one has helped me, I've asked for directions and such and they all laugh at me like I'm some lunatic who has lost my mind! They're quite rude, too! And earlier when—"

"Maura," Jane interrupts.

"… When I was walking around, this person just—"

"Maura!"

Maura sighs and stops talking, turning her head back toward Jane and away from the street.  
"What?"

"Maura, I need you to listen to me, okay?"  
Maura nods silently, nervously biting her lip.

"Now this is going to sound crazy, but I need you to just… hear me out, alright?"  
Maura nods once again.

"Maura, this…" Jane motions to the world around them, moving her hands while she speaks, though she still keeps her arms securely around Maura's waist. "This is all a… god, how do I say this? You're in a different time, Maura. A different century."

"A… a different c-century?" Maura stutters in question, taking a nervous gulp of air.

Jane nods. "Yes."

"You mean I-I'm…" she trails off, her brow furrowed in disbelief and confusion.

Jane smiles lightly, thinking that she's gotten Maura to believe her, even if only a smidge.  
"Yes, you're in the future, Maura."

There's a pause, maybe for dramatic effect, or maybe for understanding, though either way Maura's face pales as the words sink in, light shedding upon the realization.

"You're one of them!" Maura shouts as she pushes herself out of Jane's grasp.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, Maura, what?" Jane asks in a rush, feeling a sudden loss as Maura backs away from heer, staring at her like she's lost it.  
But then again, maybe Jane has.

"You're one of them, you're one of those time traveler conspirators, aren't you, Ms. Rizzoli, aren't you!" Maura asks, still taking a few steps backwards.

"No, Maura, you have to believe me, I'm not lying!" Jane tries in response, though the look in Maura's eyes refuses to give in.

Maura shakes her head as she continues walking backward, backing farther and farther away from Jane with each step.  
"No, you can't really expect me to believe you, Ms. Rizzoli."

"Maura, please, I'm not lying to you," Jane nearly begs.

"No," Maura repeats tenaciously, continuing to shake her head in horror.

_Screech!_

"Maura!" Jane shouts. Her eyes are wide with fear as she pounces forward, closing the distance between them as she shoves Maura to the ground, feet away from where the woman was still backing away in skepticism.

In her fit of doubt, Maura had stepped off the edge of the sidewalk and backed into the street, completely obliviously of her own movements.

Now the two women lie in the safety of the grass on the other side of the narrow road, Jane on top of Maura, her breaths short and ragged.

"Crazy kids, look where the hell you're walking!" the driver yells out of the car window, sending a nasty glare to the both of them on the ground before speeding off.

Maura doesn't say anything, nor does she even look at Jane.  
She merely shimmies her way out from underneath the brown locked girl and sits up, bringing her knees to her chest.  
"Make that twenty-one attempts of death," she mutters underneath her breath.

Jane doesn't catch on for a moment, until she remembers Maura's one line of rambling only moments before.  
And she can't help but laugh.

"Come here," Jane says with a chuckle, sitting up and scooting over toward Maura, wrapping her arms around her, despite the resistance.

Maura stays rigid in Jane's arms, continuously reminding herself to not give in because, after all, Jane must be crazy.

"You need to watch out where you're walking," Jane advises Maura, ignoring the fact of Maura trying to wiggle out of her embrace.

"What are those… _things_?" Maura asks, finding it okay to at least converse with the crazy woman.

Jane laughs and pulls away so she can look at Maura.  
"Those, Ms. Isles, are what we call cars."

"Cars?"

"Yes, cars," Jane confirms.

"And what purpose do cars serve?" Maura asks curiously, turning her head to watch the supposed cars fly past them at insane speeds.

"Well, we use them to get from place to place, instead of walking all the time," Jane explains, picking at the grass around her, pulling up clumps out of the earth with her fists.

"Oh…" Maura says, bowing her head.  
"What fun is that, does it not spoil the enjoyment of long walks and such?"

Jane laughs. "People still walk, we just use cars for long distances, like from city to city, or state to state."

"Oh," Maura says softly, not fully understanding, but willing to accept the concept.

A moment of silence passes between the two, though one question tears away at Maura's mind.

"Ms. Rizzoli?"

"Yes, Maura?" Jane asks, looking up from the grass and coming face to face with Maura.

"What… what year is it?" she asks in an uneasy tone, seeing as she still doesn't fully believe in this, but after all, she's just a mild bit curious.

"2008, my friend, 2008," Jane responds with a laugh, watching Maura's eyes widen.

"2008!" Maura exclaims.  
"And you say you're not lying, Jane?"

Jane relaxes a little, hearing Maura use her first name over her surname.  
"What other explanation do you have, Maura?"

Maura is silent for a moment, pondering the question as she looks around at the cars and the buildings, all of it looking so foreign to her eyes.

"Maybe I'm dreaming?" she tries in response.

Jane laughs. "No offense, Maura, but I don't think even your brilliant mind could dream up such a world."

Maura shrugs. "You never know, Jane."

Jane stands up and brushes off her knees and behind, removing the grass, and extends her hand, palm-up, toward Maura.  
"Come on," she says in an inviting tone.

Maura stares at Jane's hand for a moment, seeing it as a sort of welcoming to this bizarre land, and she grips onto it tightly, begging for some sort of guidance and protection.

Jane pulls Maura up and they stand opposite one another.  
"Well, first thing's first, let's get you some… more _appropriate_ clothes," Jane says, already walking away.

Maura scurries after her, not wanting to be left too far behind.  
"And exactly what is wrong with my clothing, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane stops walking and turns to look at Maura, a friendly smile on her face.  
"Ms. Isles, look at it this way. If my clothes are atrocious for your time period, yours are definitely considered atrocious nowadays."

Maura scoffs at Jane, her mouth hanging open in offense.  
"I beg your pardon, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane merely laughs and takes Maura's hand in her own, leading her away from the school and along the sidewalk, away from the cars.

* * *

"Here, try these on," Jane says, handing over a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to the girl who is walking around her room with wide, curious eyes, touching every surface like she's walking on the moon and can't believe it's not made of cheese.

Maura turns away from running her fingers over a closed laptop and stares at the garments in Jane's hands, her eyes still wide.

Maura stares at the t-shirt and jeans for a moment before taking them in her own hands.  
He holds them up and examines them. "Do you not have dresses in your _time_, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"Yeah, but none I wear. Jeans and t-shirts are all I wear, so here, put them on."

"You're not afraid of wearing male's clothing?"

"They're not male's clothing here. You'll look fine."

"All right, thanks," she says softly, trying to be polite, though she hates the idea of wearing such clothing.

Sensing Maura's shyness, Jane turns away so she can change peacefully, directing her attention to staring up at the sun outside of the window, completely ignoring the fact that she just totally ditched school.

"So, how'd you end up here?" Jane asks, realizing Maura still hasn't mentioned that.

Maura sighs as she removes her dress, replacing them with a pair of fairly snug jeans and a loose t-shirt.

"Well, I… I kind of followed you last night," Maura replies honestly, fooling with the zipper of the jeans as she moves it upward, the jeans becoming tighter around her abdomen as she does so.

Jane turns around to see Maura fumbling with the button on the jeans, her head bowed as her fingers work at it, unaccustomed to the thick denim material.

"You followed me?" Jane asks, walking over to the honey blonde woman.  
She reaches down and shoos Maura's hands away, taking over and sliding the button through its hole without any trouble.

Maura looks up with a grateful smile on her face, blushing lightly at her difficulties of doing such a thing that seems so simple for Jane.

"Yes, I followed you all the way out to the yard last night, and then you were standing there with your hand on that post or what not, and then you… " Maura trails off, looking up at Jane with a bit of fright in her eyes at remembrance.

"I, what?"

"You… vanished, Jane. I thought I was dreaming, and I ran over to where you were, and I started messing with the handle like I had seen you do, and before I knew what was happening, I ended up here…" Maura explains, trailing off to silence as her vision goes unfocused as she remembers the park with the dead grass and the terrifying world that met her.

Jane reaches her hand out and lightly caresses Maura's cheek, causing the girl to blush underneath her movements.  
"Hey, it's okay, you're… you're safe now, Maura," Jane says softly, noticing Maura's eyes dampening in the sunlight that snakes in through the window.

Maura sniffs once and closes the distance between them, falling against Jane's body with a thud as she holds on for dear life, trying to rid of all of the horror that she has witnessed in this strange world; the cars, the rude people… everything is just so foreign.

They stay like that for a couple minutes, hidden in each other's arms, protected from the world and most importantly time.  
While they're standing there wrapped in each other's embrace, they're protected from time, and it doesn't matter which time period they're standing in, nor how many years, decades, or even centuries separate them.

For now, being in each other's embrace is all they need, despite the questions that have no solid answers.

Suddenly, a loud song starts playing, filling the silence of the room and causing Maura to jump a mile out of Jane's arms, releasing a high-pitched squeal as she does so.

Jane walks over and picks up her cell phone off the desk, flipping it open after checking the screen.  
" Hello?" she questions. "Oh, yeah, hey Frost… I'm at home… Yeah, I kind of got distracted, and there's someone I need to take care of… Yeah… No, I can't make it, sorry," Jane says, pacing slightly as she talks to her friend.

Maura watches with utmost curiosity, staring at the object that Jane is holding up to her ear, speaking as if having conversation with someone who's… not even in the room. She quirks an eyebrow and walks closer to Jane, her eyes wide as Jane continues talking, though her words don't relate to Maura at all. Getting closer, she focuses her attention on the slim, black object in Jane's hand, leaning forward and peering at it curiously.

Jane turns around and nearly rams into Maura, her nose inches away from Maura and her wide eyes.  
She laughs before speaking into the phone once more.  
"Hah, yeah, well, I've got to run, I'll talk to you later… Mmhmm, yeah, bye."

Jane takes the cell phone away from her ear and ends the call, closing it and holding it in her hand as she directs her attention toward a confused Maura, trying not to laugh at the look of utter bewilderment on the honey blonde's face.

"What… w-what is that, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks, moving her eyes to stare down at the black plastic that peeks out of Jane's hand.

Jane chuckles, not only at the question, but more so at the sight of Maura using such proper speech while dressed in nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans, making her words sound so out of place.

"This is a phone, or a cell phone, actually," Jane says, holding it in her palm for Maura to see.

Maura reaches forward and pokes it with her index finger, as if testing the waters before picking it up, afraid that it might grow teeth and bite her.

"And what's a… phone?" Maura questions sheepishly, almost feeling ashamed for not knowing the answer.

"You use it to talk to people. You can have conversations with people who are far away, all through the presses of a few magical buttons, and you're connected with your friend on the other end," Jane explains, smiling as she watches Maura take the phone in her hands, slowly opening the screen, her eyes growing even wider as the screen lights up, illuminating an image in front of her very eyes.

She can't fight the grin that appears on her face as she watches Maura touch the phone like a little kid seeing the ocean for the first time, absolutely astonished by having such a thing in reach.

Maura looks up from the phone, a soft smile on her face as she hands it back to Jane, looking around the bedroom with wide eyes.

Spinning around once, taking in all of her new surroundings as she makes a full rotation, she says in a quiet tone, her voice no louder than a whisper, "Ms. Rizzoli, everything is so… different."

Jane chuckles, sliding her phone into her pocket, and looks directly into Maura's naive eyes.  
And with one of the straightest faces adorning her features, she says in an eager tone, "You've barely seen anything yet."

* * *

**So, are you all enjoying it? What has been your favorite part so far? Do you like where I have been going with this story? Are you ready for more? What do you think will happen next? Let me know in the reviews. I thoroughly enjoy them. Reviews help me work and update faster. They also tell me what you all are thinking. Again, thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Don't Tell Me You Forgot Her Maiden Name **

"You all are quite strange, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura says, with a hint of a laugh as she walks alongside Jane in the bright sunlight, her feet feeling like they're lugging along feathers instead of bricks in this pair of… what were they called? Sneakers? Yes, "sneakers," that's the name Jane had given them. They're so lightweight compared to her normal pair of dress shoes, nicely polished and rather heavy on her feet. But these sneakers… are quite different, she must admit.

"We're not necessarily _strange_, Maura. We're just more… developed than when you were a kid," Jane says, shaking her head in amusement as they walk on the sidewalk, headed toward a secret destination of which Jane said Maura would have to see in order to believe it.

Maura holds back another laugh behind a smirk as she ducks her head, blushing slightly at the thought of where she really is.  
And if Jane isn't completely bonkers, then the statement of "when you were a kid" is quite amusing if you step back and think about it.

When Maura was a kid… that was the early 1900s.  
And if there's no lie, then this is the early 2000s.

"Jane?" Maura speaks up after a few moments, doing nothing more than following Jane along the concrete.

"Hmm?"

"Where are you taking me?"

Jane lets out a laugh and squeezes Maura's hand in hers a little tighter, a rush of excitement running through her fingertips all the way into Maura's body.

"We're practically there, just wait until we reach this corner," Jane says, smiling a toothy grin at the bewildered look on the face of the young woman next to her.

Maura nods and responds in a quiet voice, "Okay."  
She blushes yet again, slightly embarrassed by her impatience; Mother always said being too curious and impatient are bad manners.

Glancing once at the corner of this block, some many yards in front of her, Maura looks down once more, focusing her attention on the clothing that hangs from her body. She pulls lightly at the hem of the black t-shirt, twirling the stitched folds over in her fingers as she runs her fingertips over the unfamiliar texture. She brings her hand up to her chest and runs her fingertips over the smooth printed-on graphic of some logo. It's so… different from her normal outfit.

"Okay, _that's_ our destination," Jane says, breaking into Maura's thoughts.

They stop walking when they reach the corner, and the honey blonde girl raises her head.  
Jane watches Maura's reaction with utter amusement, chuckling as she sees Maura's eyes widen at the building cattycorner of where they're standing.

"W-what's that?" Maura asks, already taking a few steps towards the large, white, glassy building that is already luring her to it.

Jane laughs and checks both ways before stepping into the street and reassuring Maura that it's safe and clear to cross.

"That is what we crazy 21st century people like to call a mall," Jane says, laughing yet again.

"A m-mall?" Maura repeats, trying to burn the word into her mind by speaking it herself.

"Mmhmm," Jane says as they reach the other side of the street and walk into the fairly full parking lot of the mall, still hand in hand as they weave their way throughout the parked cars, Maura extremely grateful that the deathtraps are still rather than zooming around and almost hitting her, like her multiple almost accidents before she had found Jane earlier that day. Of course, Maura had heard of cars several times, but she had never been granted the opportunity to sit in such a vehicle or even to be within reach of one. Such vehicles were uncommon in her town and only the richest of the rich were fortunate enough to own them. And furthermore, cars back in her time are much, much, much different in appearance than these things Maura has run into in this time. Not to mention, the few cars she had heard of at home didn't have the speeds of racecars, which seems to be the norm among these speeding cars that practically own the streets in this time period.

"What's a mall?" Maura asks sheepishly as they approach the huge building, the tall structure's shadow casting over them.

Jane smiles and explains, feeling much like a tour guide to a young child.  
"A mall is like… well, it has a bunch of shops and stores, oh! And this one happens to have an amazing food court," Jane finishes in exclamation.

Maura smiles at Jane's excitement and her own stomach growls at the mention of food, and the sight of the sign above the door not too far in front of them.

Written in a swooshy-cursive are the words "Food Court."

"Ah, I'm starving," Jane says in a rough voice as she grabs the metal door handle and holds the door open for Maura, allowing the honey blonde girl to enter before following closely behind.

They enter a large, open room with skylights scattered at random, the sunlight shining through and illuminating the tables and the hustle-and-bustle of the food court, the loud talk near overwhelming to their ears and the heat from the various fast-food kiosks pounding against their bodies.

Jane steals a glance over at Maura and smirks at the woman's wide, astonished eyes.  
Of course, coming from 1908, she has never seen such a place in all 17 years of her life.

Jane shakes her head in amusement once again and squeezes Maura's hand reassuringly, grabbing her attention as well.  
"Come on," Jane says before dragging the honey blonde woman off with her to one of the various food counters, stopping a few feet back behind a line in front of a small Wendy's.

Maura looks to her side and follows Jane's gaze up to the lit-up menu some feet above the counter.  
After a couple moments, Jane turns to Maura and asks stupidly, "What do you want?"

Maura whips her eyes away from the menu and they land on Jane with confusion.  
"I… I'm not sure, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura says in a near whisper, looking back up at the menu with a look of horror on her face.

Jane shakes her head as she realizes how stupid she's being, expecting Maura to know what to do right now.  
"Here, how about I just order for you, okay?" Jane asks softly, a light smile on her lips.  
Maura contemplates it for a second, but then nods in confirmation.

They go through the line, and Jane orders two of the same thing: two Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers, two fries, and two Cokes.

After receiving their order, the two woman walk over to an empty table that lies on the edge of the sun that creeps through the window so the sunlight isn't directly in their eyes as they eat. Jane unloads the tray and places Maura's meal in front of her.

The honey blonde merely stares at the round-shaped object that's covered in silvery foil, quirking her head lightly to the side in question.

Jane is about to take a bite into her burger when her gaze falls upon the confused girl across from her and she laughs wholeheartedly, pulling the burger away from her mouth and placing it back on its wrapper.

"Maura, here," she says with another laugh and reaches across the table and unwraps Maura's burger for her, smoothing out the wrapper so it lays open flat on the table, the burger lying on top and staring up at Maura with a luring essence.

Maura still stares at it questioningly.

"Didn't they have burgers back in 1908?" Jane asks, smirking in a friendly manner.

Maura shrugs.  
"It sounds slightly familiar, but it definitely does not look familiar, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura states, looking down at the meat and bun with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, try it, I'm sure you'll love it," Jane says before picking up her own burger once again.  
She goes to stuff the juicy meat into her mouth when her eyes fall on a bewildered Maura once again.  
"What now?" she asks with a sigh.

Maura looks up from the food in front of her and stares at Jane, smiling sheepishly.  
"Do you know if they have any… silverware?" she asks quietly.

Jane laughs and shakes her head.  
"No, not for burgers. You're supposed to eat them with your hands," she says simply.

Maura's jaw hangs ajar as she glances between the burger and Jane in disbelief.  
"With my h-hands?"  
Jane nods.  
"No, no, no, Mother always says that eating with your hands is simply barbaric!"

"Well, your mother has also never touched a burger in her life. Now just pick it up or you won't know what you're missing out on," Jane says, shaking her head at the ridiculousness once more before biting into her burger.

Maura notices the snappiness in Jane's voice, so she complies and agrees to go against the standards her mother has set for her.  
After all, what Mother doesn't know, can't hurt her, right?

She picks up the round buns, covered in seeds, and places her dainty fingers around it, gripping it lightly in a manner as not to get dirty by holding the greasy meat.

Saying a silent apology to her mother, she closes her eyes and takes a small bite out of the bun and meat combo, her teeth sinking in through the layer of cheese, bacon, and various toppings and condiments, her sweet tooth hopping onto a roller coaster and dragging her tongue along with it as her taste buds seem to liven up at the slight drop of ketchup and mustard that falls upon them.

She chews and swallows and doesn't open her eyes again until she hears a loud laugh escape from Jane.  
Her eyes fall upon a red-faced Jane sitting across from her and she lets out a nervous, embarrassed laugh, her cheeks already turning a light shade of pink in the knowledge that Jane is laughing at her, not with her.

"W-what?" she asks nervously, grabbing one of the crisp white napkins and running it across her lips.

Jane continues laughing and shakes her head, tears falling from the corners of her eyes.  
"Y-your reaction!" she manages to stutter out as she regains her composure.  
"God, I wish you could have seen your face, priceless, pure priceless. You looked like… god you look like you were enjoying a good fuck," Jane says with a laugh, her words causing Maura to furrow her brow. "You like?"

Maura understands Jane is referring to the burger in her hands, and she nods lightly.  
"It's fairly good, Ms. Rizzoli," she replies softly.

* * *

After enjoying one not so fancy lunch, Jane drags Maura into the main part of the mall, leading the naturally beautiful young woman into a shopping utopia, a place where people are offering various goods, samples, and massages left and right, constantly interrupting their conversations as they walk through the crowds of mostly other teens and young adults.

Maura's eyes are wide the whole time, and she stays rather close to Jane's side, clinging to her like life support, as if letting go will allow her to be washed under the ocean of walking, talking people, all of which Maura finds to be fairly rude. Don't try to argue with her, because you'll only lose the fight. Several pushes and not a single mutter of apology, not even an acknowledgement that they had bumped into another human being. _Quite rude_, Maura thinks. _What would their mothers think of their lack of decorum?_

For the most part, their walk around the mall is mainly Maura pointing to stuff and asking questions, receiving an answer from Jane, usually jointed with a laugh or at the very least, a genuine smirk.

"Do you have tribes nowadays, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks at one point.

Jane furrows her brow and glances at the woman next to her, wondering where such a question would come from.  
"Um… no, not really. Why?"

"Well, that boy over there has some sort of piercing through his nose. And that group, right over there, they have such odd colors in their hair, like war paints or something. I have only ever heard of such things happening in the ancient tribes and such, with their odd customs," Maura says, pointing at various pierced teenagers walking past. "Oh, and all of those different colored paints they have smeared around their eyes, now those are like war paints. James always tries to imitate that idea, running around the yard with dirt smudged on cheeks and releasing battle cries… oh, it annoys Mother so much."

Jane can't control the fit of laughter that follows, unable to believe how different all of this stuff is compared to Maura's time, and the crazy explanations she comes up with on her own.

"First off, no, that doesn't mean they're part of some tribe," Jane says with a short laugh, shaking her head in amusement. "Tons of people have piercings. And the colors in the hair, is called hair dye. The war paints as you call them, on their faces, is nothing more than make-up."

"Oh," Maura says, her shoulders slumping.  
She was sure that her war paints guess was correct, but sadly she was defeated once again.  
"Make-up? Like what the actors wear?"

"Mmhmm, people just wear it to a greater extent nowadays," Jane says softly.

Maura makes a tiny sound of understanding as they continue walking around, meandering in and out of various shops.  
After some time, the mall begins to darken as the sunlight begins to lower in the sky and artificial fluorescent lights are the only lights in the mall.

"Come on, I should get you home," Jane says as she notices Maura release one hell of a big yawn as they exit some random shop.

Maura smiles through her yawn, and looks at Jane.  
"Home?" she questions simply.

Jane nods and responds, "Yeah, home."

Jane begins leading them toward one of the numerous exits of the mall, her hand naturally falling into place as it holds onto Maura's soft hand, their fingers interlacing in an affectionate manner.

"Yo, Jane, dude!" a voice shouts from a few yards ahead of them, bringing both of the women out of their tired haze.

Jane snaps her head up at the familiar voice.  
Cutting through the crowd in front of them is Frost, making his way toward them at record speed.

Jane stops walking, Maura doing likewise and furrowing her brow at the young man approaching them.

Frost walks over with a huge grin, though the grin quickly fades as his eyes fall upon the clasped hands between Jane and the mystery girl.  
"Uh… hi, Jane… who's your… uh… friend?" he asks, clearly staring at their display of affection.

Jane's eyes widen as she follows Frost's gaze, and she immediately releases Maura's hand, leaving her hanging there like a falling leaf. Maura furrows her brow once more at the strange reaction, and stares at Jane curiously before looking at whom she supposes is Jane's friend.

"Oh, um, Frost, this is Maura, my uh… friend," she concludes, finding it safer to label Maura as nothing more than a friend at this point.

Frost can't help but notice the growing blush on Jane's cheeks and the look of hurt that washes over Maura's.  
Clearly, "friends" isn't the right term for whatever relationship they have.

But, if Jane doesn't want him to know, then he'll go along with it for now.  
After all, what are friends for?

Frost smiles politely at Maura and extends his hand.  
"Hi, I'm Frost."

Maura smiles, the way her mother taught her to, in response.  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Frost, I'm Maura Isles," she says while shaking Frost's hand delicately, like Maura was taught.

_Strange kid_, Frost thinks to himself, noting the odd proper speech.

"You must be one of Jane's 21st century friends," Maura continues, smiling eagerly.

_Okay, more than strange_, he thinks, his eyes widening at the words.  
He stares at Jane in disbelief, a realization crawling upon him as he recalls the silly time travel idea Jane had come up with a month or so ago.  
First came the idea, then the disappearing in the park, and now… _this_?

"Um, yeah," Frost says in response, glaring at Jane.  
Jane merely shrugs with a smirk.

"Okay, well, wow, look at the time," Jane says, pulling out her phone and checking the display. "Yeah, we better get going."

Frost can take a hint.  
He nods and says in a near threat, staring directly at Jane, "Yeah, well, I _will_ talk to you later."  
And with a simple good-bye to Maura and a small wave, he walks off in the other direction.

Maura stares at Jane questionably, her head tilted to the side as if asking for explanation.  
"Who was that, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"Frost? He's just a friend," Jane says, already walking away toward the exit once again, not lying about the fact that they should be leaving.

"Just a friend?" Maura asks curiously.  
Honestly, she couldn't help but notice all of the wide eyes Frost had sent Jane, and she was a little bit jealous.

Jane stops and turns to Maura, a smile tugging at her lips.  
"Are you… _jealous_, Ms. Isles?" she asks playfully, chuckling softly.

Maura drops her jaw.  
"I am _not_ jealous, how dare you even suggest such a thing, Ms. Rizzoli!" she replies in a rather offended tone.

Jane shakes her head in amusement, loving the slight pout that takes over Maura's face alongside the light blush that scatters across her pale cheeks, giving them a bit of color.

Not caring about the crowds of people walking in and out of the mall, or even the possibility that someone she knows might be watching, Jane leans forward and plants a sincere kiss upon Maura's soft lips, the kiss instantly erasing any doubts that Maura might have possessed, even if for a second.

She pulls away smiling to see Maura's cheeks now a shade of scarlet, clearly taken by surprise.

Sharing a kiss with another girl in public?  
That's quite scandalous in Maura's book.

"Jane…" Maura whispers, the air catching in her throat as she stares into Jane's eyes, unable to control the smile that creeps onto her lips. Looking into Jane's eyes, she could get lost forever. Swimming forever in the seas of brown, feeling right at home, a feeling she's never felt before in her life.

Jane only smiles and grabs hold of Maura's hand, leading her out of the mall without another word, the two of them walking into the silence of the night to head their separate ways.

* * *

After making sure that Maura made it home safely, in her own attire and with no trace of the future on her, Jane finally returned home from the empty park, terribly saddened at the void she felt in her heart after she watched Maura vanish from that same post in the ground, traveling back home with the simple jiggle of a handle.

How such a thing works?  
Only the big guy upstairs who holds all the answers can tell you that.

Walking in through the front door with a piece of her heart missing, Jane saunters into her house with slumped shoulders, not in the mood to deal with anyone, not even her own family.

She bypasses the living room and enters the kitchen, swinging open the fridge and extracting a chilled can of coke.  
She cracks open the lid, and downs a huge gulp before slowly leaving the kitchen.

As she leaves the kitchen and heads towards the living room, some random colorful pages spread out on the dining room table catch her eye.

She stops and glances down at the pages, realizing it's some sort of family tree.

Down at the bottom are her brother, Frankie, and she.  
Extending from them come their parents, then their grandparents, great grandparents and so on and so forth.  
It's a typical family tree that goes back for a few generations, enough to get a main idea of the family.

"You like it?" Frankie asks, walking into the dining room with a glue stick, prepared to glue the names and a few pictures down onto a poster board.

"What's it for?" Jane asks, taking another sip of her coke and then lowering the can from her mouth.

Frankie releases a sigh and shakes his head, his dark brown, nearly black hair shaking against the air of the room as he does so.  
"It's for the family history unit. You did the exact same thing when you were in second grade, according to Mom. She said she remembered having to pull out the same genealogy book that Grandma had given her years ago, back when you had to do it, remember?" Frankie says with a huff, gluing down his own name at the bottom of the poster, along with his latest school picture.

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Jane says softly, though to be honest, she forgets most of it.  
She walks a little closer and allows her eyes to scan over the poster board.  
Her heartbeat quickens as her gaze falls upon the last names listed at the top of the page.  
_  
Rizzoli-Isles Family Tree  
_  
"Rizzoli… I-I-Isles?" she asks in a whisper, the question not really posed to anyone but the silence of the house.

Frankie glances up to see his sister's face a near ghostly pale.  
"Uh… yeah, Rizzoli is Dad's side, Isles is Mom's side. Don't tell me you forgot her maiden name," Frankie says with an eye roll, amazed by his sister's forgetfulness.

Jane doesn't respond, and instead flips through the pile of names and dates, pulling out slips of paper with names written on them that are all too familiar to her mind.  
_  
James Isles…_

Maura Isles…

Her heart ceases to beat as she holds the slip of paper in her hands, the name written in her brother's best cursive stares up at her in almost a sinister manner.

Sweat begins to pulsate out of her body.  
Her breath catches in her throat, the air dying in the passageways.  
Her mouth turns as dry as the desert, her tongue shriveling up like a cactus.  
Her mind switches to shut down and collapses on the spot, becoming dead weight in her head.  
As fast as her heart ceased to beat, it begins to pulse once more, beating at an abnormally fast pace as she stares down at the name in her hands.  
_  
Maura Isles…_

Dear god, tell me there's more than one Maura Isles with a brother named James

, she prays to herself, though she knows the chances are very, very slim.

And the birth date written beneath the name doesn't help matters at all.  
_  
Maura Isles  
B. August 7, 1890.  
_  
The color drains from her face and her hands begin shaking, and she drops the slip of paper.

The realization of being related to Maura hits her like an anvil falling from the sky, smashing her to the ground and breaking her heart into a million tiny, irreplaceable pieces. But then she is reminded of one important word that was shared between them a long time ago, _adopted_, Maura was adopted. That makes it better. At least we're not _blood_ related.

Jane is relieved at that revelation, but then another date written on the slip of paper catches her eye and makes her completely forget about the quandary idea of being related.

She reads the other date and her heartbeat quickens, prolific thoughts flowing through her mind as the final date stares up at her, as if coming face to face with the grim reaper.  
_  
Maura Isles  
B. August 7, 1890.  
D. March 4, 1909.  
_  
A date of death…


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: I'm Not Going to Live Forever **

Jane awakes early the following morning, rising from her mattress only to be rewarded with aching limbs that make it feel like she hasn't slept a wink during the past 5 or so hours she was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly, her thoughts running mad and keeping her from being granted the opportunity of sleep.

She tried, she really did.  
She closed her eyes multiple times; she turned from side to side, testing every resting position known to man.  
But sleep never fully came.

However, she did manage to rest for a little more than an hour, though when she awoke it didn't feel that way.

The image of that slip of paper with Maura's name written on it was burnt into her mind, burnt into the insides of her eyelids.  
That date of death…  
It seems so unrealistic.

How could Maura be dead?  
March 4, 1909… in Maura's time it's 1908…  
That would mean Maura would be dead in less than a year, but how? Why?  
And why does she have to die so young?  
She'll only be 18 by March of the following year.  
18! That's too fucking young to die!

Jane climbs from her bed and moves toward her pile of clothes that don't fit in her closet, and pulls off an outfit from the top of the pile, moving in slow motion and resembling a sloth as she does so, her eyelids half drooped and covered in sleep.

The first rays of the morning sunlight creep in through the cracks of her window blinds, shining in little lines across Jane's room and bringing life to the world.

Fully dressed, Jane makes her way from her bedroom and down the stairs, a crumpled piece of paper in her hands as she walks to the kitchen.

She scribbles down a note on a napkin for her mom, telling her that she needs the car today to run some errands.  
Leaving it out on the kitchen counter in full view for someone to see when they wake up in a few hours, Jane grabs her keys off the hook and heads toward the front door, walking in a tired haze out to the car.

The sounds of the car door shutting and the engine starting up seem to echo in the silence of the morning, intermixed among the morning calls of the chirping birds.

She lets the car run idle in the driveway as she sits for a few moments, running the back of her hand over her eyes to rid of the sleep.  
She pulls out the crumpled sheet of paper from her pocket and smoothes it out on the dashboard, running her hands over the wrinkles in the paper that she had written on the night before.

On the paper, written in Jane's loopy penmanship, is an address for a cemetery, not too far away, but still a fairly long drive.

She stares down at the letters and numbers in disbelief.  
She had looked it up on the web the previous night after she regained the ability to breathe and move from the dining room where Frankie's family tree was laid out for the world to see.

Surely enough, she ended up with a specific section of the cemetery in which she would find a tombstone for a young 20th century woman, Maura Dorthea Isles, as the website listed it.

As she reads over the address once again, her breathing hitches in her throat and her eyes dampen once more.  
It can't be real, can it?

Well, that's why she's going, to try and prove the world wrong.  
Maura can't be dead, she just can't be.

Leaving the piece of paper laid out on the dashboard, Jane positions her hands on the steering wheel and backs the car out of the driveway.

* * *

After a 37 minute drive that felt more like 5 hours, Jane pulls her mom's car through the open gates of a dreadful cemetery, full of stones that label the dead buried in the earth's loving embrace.

She drives around aimlessly, every now and then glancing up at that the little signs that tell her what section she is.

And at last, her eyes fall upon a round, dark green sign with the number 7 written in white paint.

She pulls the car to the side of the narrow road and puts it in park, turning her keys and pulling them out of the ignition, the keys jingling as she shoves them in her pocket.

For a few seconds, Jane sits there, unbuckled, and stares out at the numerous gravestones, her palms sweating on the spot and her heartbeat plummeting through the roof as she knows one of those stones has Maura's name on it.

Taking a deep breath, she exits the car and steps onto the bright green grass, her eyes already searching the names on the stones near the edge of the road.

And not too far away, she sees the name Isles etched into an old, grey stone.  
Some sort of force pulls her to it, and before she knows her legs are even moving, she's standing over in front of a whole family plot of the Isles family line.  
_  
Richard and Constance Isles  
In loving memory of two adoring parents…_

Maura's parents

, Jane thinks to herself, her hands stuffed in her pockets as she looks at the dates, both death dates long after 1909.

She glances to the side, seeing various names of what she assumes to be grandparents and cousins and such.

But then her eyes fall upon the inevitable.  
_  
Maura Dorthea Isles_

She walks over to the rectangular grey stone that sits above the ground, the lettering already wearing away from years of harsh weather.  
_  
Maura Dorthea Isles  
A loving daughter and sister  
Born August 7, 1890  
Death March 4, 1909  
_  
"Maura…" Jane whispers and places her hand on top of the stone, clutching on to it as tears begin pricking at her eyes, daring to burst at any moment.

Her fingers grip the top of the stone, the skin breaking under her grip against the rough top, but she can't feel the scrapes.  
The only pain she can feel is the growing ache in her chest.  
_  
Maura's… dead… _

"Maura…" she whispers once again, her voice escaping her lips and being blown away by a light breeze.

The sun is rising in the sky, and it's golden rays cast across the world below, including the cemetery in which Jane is now standing.  
And despite the falling tears and the breaking heart of the brown locked girl below, the sun continues to shine.

Jane releases a choked sob, the cry catching in her throat and leaving her body as a near yell.  
Her eyes squeeze shut as the tears leak from beneath her eyelids, tumbling down her cheeks like rivers, leaving their wet trails to dry in the sun.

Her body shakes violently with the strangled sobs that follow, her cries echoing throughout the serene silence of the cemetery.

With a trembling body, she falls to her knees, clutching onto the tombstone as she falls to the ground, ignoring the morning dew that soaks the knees of her jeans.

"Maura… my Maura… why?" she asks, her words coming out as mumbles beneath her cries, inaudible to the world though they're shouts in her mind.

"Why? … _Why!_" she ends up shouting, leaning her head backwards as she shouts up at the sky, as if yelling up at the numerous gods above.

More violent sobs jolt through her body and she lowers her head, hanging between her sunken shoulders with her unruly brown curls falling around her and creating a curtain around her face. With another cry she asks in a soft, trembling voice to the world around her, "Why did you take her from me?"

The tears continue to flow against her will, something so un-Jane-like, but she doesn't care right now.  
No one ever cares when it comes to losing a loved one.  
You can't fight the tears that come with the breaking of your heart.

With her head bowed and both of her hands clutching onto the tombstone, almost hugging it in a manner, she says between her cries, "Maura… don't leave me, I… I love you, just don't leave me, please… please don't…"

She cries so much, probably more than she has in her whole life, even more than when her goldfish died when she was 5.  
But then she remembers that she can still visit Maura…  
In this parallel universe or whatever you wish to call it, Maura isn't dead yet.  
But does that mean Jane is capable of saving Maura from her death?  
Can she trick fate, and play against time?

Running her forearm across her face, she doesn't know, but it sure as hell won't hurt to try.

As she takes a few minutes to regain her composure and wipe her face of the remaining tears, Jane stands up from her kneeling position and stares down at the gravestone in front of her, reading the name once more along with the dates to make sure she hasn't imagined the entire thing in one messed up nightmare. But sadly, everything is right in front of her as she remembers, the same date of death along with the same name.

She brings her index and middle fingers to her lips and kisses them lightly, taking the kiss from her lips and placing it on the top of the gravestone with a tear.

She says in a determined whisper to the gravestone, imagining the honey blonde girl's body to be lying in coffin some distance beneath her feet, "I won't let you die, Maura."

* * *

Jane leaves the car in the driveway at home and doesn't even stop inside before she runs off in the other direction, leaving her house far behind as she sprints to the park, forcing her lungs to pump air in and out as her legs turn to molasses underneath her.

She reaches the familiar post and wraps her fingers around the handle, jiggling it lightly.  
With the wind picking up around her, she is wisped off into the past without any question.

The sun is high in the sky in the mid-afternoon, and she turns around to be met by the large stone structure of the Isles residence, the home casting a pleasant shadow on the yard in which Jane is standing.

Within seconds of standing there, the front door is thrown open and Maura bursts out, running down the steps and across the lawn, beaming at the brown, curly locked girl before her.

But Jane doesn't just stand there; she breaks off into a sprint toward Maura.  
When they reach one another, Jane wraps her arms around Maura in a much-needed embrace, holding Maura's body against her own as she wishes to never let go.

Maura returns the hug, loving the closeness and intimacy that she lacks when Jane isn't around, realizing that Jane is the only human who can fill that void in her heart, the void that her parents expect a handsome, young man to fill in the coming years.

"Maura," Jane chokes out, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to hold back a whole new set of her tears.  
However, she fails miserably, and in no time the tears are flowing freely from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks only to soak through the shoulder of Maura's dress.

"I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't come today," Maura says in her normal voice, smiling as she buries her head against Jane's shoulder, her arms resting against Jane's back in a natural position.

After a few seconds she notices her shoulder becoming damp, as if…  
"Ms. Rizzoli, are you… are you crying?" she asks softly, concern in her tone.

Jane doesn't respond, though she shakes her head in vain, as if by doing so she can convince Maura that she isn't crying; she doesn't want to look weak in front of Maura. In Maura's eyes she wants to be strong, not some weakling who cries over nonsense.

"Ms. Rizzoli," Maura says, furrowing her brow as Jane shakes her head. "Ms. Rizzoli… Jane… Jane," she continues, trying to sound more comforting as the tears begin to soak through the material of her dress and wet the skin of her shoulder.

Jane refuses to speak, but the tears continue to flow and an audible sniffle betrays her.

At the sound of the sniff, Maura pushes herself away and makes it so she can look at Jane, keeping her at arm's length so she can't hide her face in the protection of her shoulder.

Jane's head is bowed and she bites her bottom lip, trying to hide her tears, but Maura merely reaches forward and tilts her head upward, placing her hand on Jane's chin.

She almost gasps at the sight of tears on Jane's face, surprised at the sight of seeing a broken tough exterior.  
She feels tears pricking at her own eyes as she sees Jane's bottom lip tremble after being released.

"Jane… what is it, what's the matter?" she asks softly, reaching across and wiping away a few of Jane's tears, frowning as more flow in response.

"I…" Jane stutters out, but a sob racks through her body and silences her.

Maura lets her cry for a few moments before she walks Jane over to the bench that lies at the edge of the yard, protected by the shadows of the trees. She sits Jane down and angles her own body so she can look at Jane.

After Jane quiets down a little, Maura asks in a whisper, "Jane?"

Jane turns her head and looks at Maura, staring into her eyes as she stops her tears from falling any longer.

"Jane… what's wrong, why are you so upset?" Maura asks, reaching out her hand and wiping away the trails of Jane's many tears before brushing one of Jane's brown locks behind her shoulder.

Jane searches for her words and holds back her tears as she begins softly, "I… Maura, I… I love you."

Maura freezes, her hand hovering above Jane's shoulder as she was in the process of sticking her stray locks behind her shoulder.  
She moves her eyes from Jane's hair to her face, locking eyes with her.  
"Ms. Riz—Jane, w-what?" she asks, not believing her own ears.

Jane smiles lightly, but her bottom lip trembles once more.  
She moves her hand upwards and grabs hold of Maura's, lacing her fingers through the spaces in between Maura's, fitting perfectly.

"I said, I love you," she repeats, but this time without stuttering and with a little more feeling and confidence.

Maura forces herself to shut her hanging jaw, and a soft smile tugs at her lips, but she can't help but furrow her brow in confusion.

"If that's what you said, then why are you crying?" Maura asks in bewilderment.

Jane shakes her head.  
"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me, Jane. I want to understand."

The brown locked woman looks up and searches Maura's eyes, attempting to find the best way to phrase her words.  
"I don't want you to leave me," she settles on saying in a soft tone.

"Leave you? Ms. Rizzoli, why would I leave you?" Maura asks, shaking her head.  
"I love you, too, Jane…"

Jane shakes her head. "No, you don't get it. I don't… I don't want you to… to die," she stutters out, lowering her head.

Maura is silent for a moment, but she squeezes Jane's hand.  
"Don't be silly, Jane, I'm young… you're young. I won't die for a long time, and neither will you," Maura says in a light tone, attempting to sound happy instead of worried as to why Jane is thinking about death instead of all of the other obstacles they'll have to face.

Jane sighs, realizing Maura can't know the full truth as to why she's so upset.  
Telling her that she'll die in less than a year?  
She'd probably kill Maura right then and there.

"I just don't want you to die," Jane says softly, her head bowed as she tries to shove away the images of Maura's gravestone.  
The gravestone for the woman sitting next to her, the same woman who's hand she is holding in her own at this very moment.  
It's too surreal.

Maura tries to smile while she says, "Well, Jane, you know I'm not going to live forever. That's not even possible."

Jane nods her head.  
"I know, I know, this isn't _Tuck Everlasting_, there's no fountain of youth."

Maura furrows her brow. "_Tuck Everlasting_, what's that?"

Jane smiles, forgetting for a moment that there's no way for Maura to know of such a book.  
"It's a book… never mind, it doesn't matter."

"Oh, okay…" Maura responds softly.

They're both silent for a moment before Maura speaks up once again, squeezing Jane's hand and smiling softly.  
"Why are you so worked up over death anyways, Jane? You're acting like you've seen a ghost."

Jane tries to smile, "Not quite, I just… had a bad dream."

"Oh," Maura responds, looking down at their clasped hands and thinking in silence for a moment.  
"Did I die in your dream; is that what this is about?"

Jane nods lightly.  
"Yeah, you could say that," she says softly, wishing that what she actually saw was nothing more than a dream.  
A dream she could deal with, a nightmare even, but this?  
This was a fucking gravestone; she touched it for Christ's sake.

Jane looks up as she feels her hand being squeezed once more, and she comes face to face with a smiling Maura.

"But hey, I'm here now, Jane, I'm not dead," Maura says with a toothy grin, her head tilted to the side in a cute manner.

Jane can't hold back the smile that conquers all of her painful feelings and quickly erases her troublesome thoughts all by the grin on Maura's face.

With a smile, Jane reaches across with her free hand and bops Maura on the nose playfully.  
"You're right, you're here now, and you know what?"

Maura giggles and her smile widens as she asks, "What, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"I love you," Jane says with a sincere grin.

Maura giggles again and bows her head, blushing like mad under Jane's intense gaze, her cheeks heating up in the same manner as when she's suffering from a fever, but this is all caused by three little words.

How can one phrase possibly hold so much meaning?

Looking up with a grin plastered to her face, her cheeks lighting up as bright as Rudolph's glowing nose, Maura asks meekly, "Do you really mean that, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"Of course I do, why would you doubt that, Ms. Isles?" Jane asks, quirking her head to the side in question.

Maura shrugs simply and responds.  
"We have only known each other for a little more than a month, and this… this more intimate part of our relationship has only been happening for barely two weeks. Isn't love quite a large word for this early in our… our relationship, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks, stuttering over her words as she says them in embarrassment.

Jane chuckles, "Very good point, but I'm not sure what else to call this feeling."

Maura nods in understanding as their conversation turns to silence yet again.

"Is it like butterflies in your chest, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks in a whisper, referring to the feeling that Jane can't quite name.

Jane nods.  
"Huge butterflies," she specifies.

"And does your heartbeat quicken when you… when you think about me, or see me?" she asks timidly.

Jane chuckles, "My heart grows wings and takes off when I see you, let alone think of you."

Maura tries to hide her blush, but her cheeks are lighting up bright scarlet by this point, and she bows her head in embarrassment.  
Jane merely squeezes her hand in response, trying to hold back her chuckle at Maura's shyness.

"Do your palms begin to sweat when you're around me?" Maura asks in vain.

Jane squeezes Maura's hand and laughs wholeheartedly.  
"What do you think, Ms. Isles?"

Evidently, the answer is yes, Maura notices as their hands slide against one another, both covered by a thin layer of nervous sweat at the moment.

Maura giggles at the gesture and falls silent for another minute.

"Whom do you think of when you fall asleep at night, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks softly, looking up into Jane's eyes and no longer caring about trying to hide the blush on her cheeks.

Jane smiles and responds quietly, "You."

The blush deepens on Maura's soft cheeks, and she smiles, fluttering her eyelids sweetly at Jane's single word.  
Her eyes study Jane's face for a moment, ending up on the brown locked woamn's parted lips.

"Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks in a whisper.

"Yes, Ms. Isles?"

"May I… may I kiss you, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks with a small smile.

Jane smirks.  
"You don't have to ask."

Maura smiles and leans forward a few inches, bringing her lips to Jane's in a light kiss.  
It's soft and innocent, hidden in the shadows of the trees and protected from the wandering eyes of anyone staring out the window of the Isles house at that moment.

After pulling away, Maura stares at Jane and smiles lightly.  
"If those feelings are love, then I believe I love you more than I imagined, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura says softly.

Jane smiles and squeezes Maura's hand again, but she can't help but notice the troubled look on Maura's face.

"But you look worried, Maura, what's wrong?" Jane asks, looking at Maura's face, surprised by the worry etched into the honey blonde woman's features.

Maura glances away.  
"I've never felt this way for anyone else before, Ms. Rizzoli," she says vulnerably.

"Neither have I, not truly," Jane says, recalling once saying the words to some random guy, though she never felt this way around him, ever.

"But… but my parents expect me to fall in love with some dazzling young man and marry. They've already tried marrying me off before, and somehow I don't think they'd be very pleased with knowledge of… of this," Maura says, motioning her hand in between herself and Jane, referring to their relationship.

"Oh," Jane says softly, defeated by Maura's words, remembering what century they're in, and imagining what kinds of expectations young women are expected of during this time, quite different from the present day.

"Do they have to know?" Jane asks after a moment, looking up from her lap and into Maura's eyes.

Maura is silent for a moment, biting her lip in concentration as she weighs the pros and cons of keeping their relationship a secret.  
"I suppose not," she says quietly, seeing as so far they've kept it pretty hush-hush from the rest of the world.

Jane smiles and wraps her arms around Maura's slender frame, holding her in a tight embrace, their intimacy once again hidden by the shadows of the trees around them.

Maura curls herself in Jane's arms, repositioning herself so that she can rest against Jane; her head buried underneath the curve of Jane's neck.

She smiles to herself as the feeling of a protective blanket surrounds her and protects her from the outside world.  
Jane, on the other hand, wishes she were capable of such as the images of a grey gravestone flash through her memory once more, chills running through her spine at the recollection of the cemetery only a little more than an hour ago. She closes her eyes only to be met by the image of Maura's name carved into granite, and she shivers despite the warmth of the air around her.

"I'll keep you safe, I promise," Jane whispers softly, her phrase meaning the world to Maura, though it poses a rather difficult challenge for herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: You Can't Fuck With Time**

"Okay, Jane, you went AWOL again yesterday, you won't pick up your fucking cell phone, now you better tell me who the hell this Maura Isles whack is," Frost says loudly, slamming open the door to Jane's bedroom and storming in without even knocking.

"Ugh… five more minutes," Jane mutters from her bed, digging her way deeper under the mound of comforters to hide from the harsh voice.

Frost pauses in his tracks and puts his hands on his hips, sighing loudly and glaring at the mound of comforters, sheets, and pillows.  
"No," Frost states simply.

He walks over to Jane's bed and pulls at the covers, whipping them off to the side and exposing Jane's face to the burning afternoon sunlight.

"You're… evil," Jane mutters, covering her face and bringing her legs up to her chest as she curls into a ball on her side, turned away from the window.

"Jane, you wuss, it's only sunlight. And it's also," Frost raises his wrist to look at his watch, "2:53 in the afternoon."

Jane grunts.  
"2:53?"

"2:54 now, but yes," Frost replies.

"Fuck, I went to bed like… 12 hours ago," Jane says, sighing tiredly.

"Yeah, well," Frost begins, walking over and pulling out Jane's desk chair to sit on.  
"I'd assume time traveling takes a lot of energy out of you."

Jane stiffens at her friend's words.  
She rolls over in her bed so she can look at her friend, despite the blinding sunlight.  
"Excuse me?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.

Frost rolls his eyes.  
"Jane, come on, you know what I mean. You're not that stupid."

Jane smirks. "So you believe me now?"

Frost shrugs. "Perhaps."

"Only perhaps?" Jane questions.

Frost nods.  
"Yeah, I just need you to answer some things for me first."

Jane sighs and pushes herself up, along with a couple pillows as she situates her body against the headboard.  
"Okay, shoot, what do you need to know?"

"Well," Frost says, clasping his hands together.  
"First of all, who the hell is this Maura Isles whack that you were with at the mall yesterday?"

"Just a friend," Jane says in response.

Frost snorts. "Yeah, we'll get to that point later, but exactly where is she from?"

Jane shifts uncomfortably.  
"She's from around here," she says, which actually isn't a lie at all.

"From around here as in a couple centuries ago, right?" Frost asks, smirking at his friend's wide eyes. "Oh, come on, Jane; don't act like it wasn't that obvious. She asked me if I'm one of your 21st century friends for fuck's sake! As if you have friends from other centuries," Frost finishes, staring at Jane with an eyebrow raised in question.

"Well, Frost, I've met your grandmother and technically, she could be labeled as someone from a different cent—"

"Jane! Not the point!" Frost yells, cutting Jane off.  
The brown locked girl on the bed winces back slightly as her friend glares at her with the evil eye.  
"But you know my point, Jane, now spill."

"Fine, fine," Jane says softly, bowing her head slightly in defeat.  
"Maura's from… the, uh, past."

Frost nods, already expecting that answer.  
"How long ago?"

"100 years." Jane says, looking up at her friend. "1908."

Frost bites his bottom lip as he continues to nod his head, seeing as he already kind of knew the answers, so he's not too surprised.

"What was she doing here?" Frost asks after a minute.

Jane chuckles before replying, "She followed me."

"Followed you? How so?"

Jane shrugs, but tells her friend what she knows.  
"She saw me leaving the other night and she followed me by using that same post that I use. It's the one thing that connects the two centuries, I guess. I mean, there are more things, but for some reason that post in particular is like a… god, I don't know…"

"Time portal?" Frost supplies.

Jane smirks softly.  
"Yeah, I guess. God, Frost, I almost forgot how much of a time travel nut you are," Jane says with a laugh.

Frost glares at Jane lightly, but smiles too.  
After all, that's a true statement.

"So, anyways, yeah, she just kind of followed me home the other night and then she was wandering around town until I saw her during school," Jane continues recalling the events of the other day.

"So that's what came up during school?" Frost asks.

"Uh, yeah, and my mom already gave me shit when she found out I cut the entire block of afternoon classes," Jane says grimly.

"I bet," Frost responds.

The two are silent for a moment, both of them lost in their own seas of thoughts until Frost asks in a curious tone, "Who is she exactly?"

"Maura?" Jane asks, furrowing her brow and biting her lip in concentration.

"Yeah."

Jane sighs and looks down at her kneecaps, as if studying them with her utmost interest.  
"I already told you, she's a friend."

Frost snorts and causes Jane to look up at him.  
"Oh, god, Jane, please, you two were holding hands. I'm positive you haven't held hands with a girl since pre-school," he says with a snicker, making Jane blush.

Jane doesn't respond, but she bows her head once again.

"Jane, dude, you're blushing," Frost says, trying to hide another laugh.

Jane squirms and reaches for the sheets that are currently hanging off the side of the bed.  
She catches hold of the corner in between her fingertips and she snatches the sheet, bringing it upward to hide under.  
She crawls under the sheets and pulls them up over her head, hiding under them like a tent.

Watching Jane, Frost's chest begins to tighten and weigh down, making him feel a pang of guilt.

He sighs as Jane disappears in embarrassment beneath the bed sheets.

"Jane," Frost says softly. "Jane, come on, come out from underneath there."

The big round bump from underneath the sheets shakes from side to side in the negative.

Frost shakes his head at his own insensitivity and he stands up and walks over to Jane's bed.  
He stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do to make his friend feel better.

"Jane," Frost says.

Her response is the sound of feet running against sheets as Jane tries to hide herself farther beneath her mound of blankets.

Frost sighs and carefully sits down on the edge of Jane's bed, making sure not to sit on any of Jane's limbs.

"Jane," Frost says again, his tone very soft. "Come on, I'm sorry I laughed, okay?"

No response.

Frost sighs again and starts tracing a crease in Jane's bed sheets with his index finger before speaking again.  
"Is Maura…" he begins and then trails off. "Is she like your… your, uh, your… um, girlfriend?"

Silence.

Frost feels his heartbeat racing as he braces himself for the answer.  
"Is she?" he asks again, softly and showing no hint of mock.

A sigh is heard from beneath the sheets, and slowly, very, very slowly, the bump, which is Jane's head hidden under the blankets, nods up and down in response.

Frost's breathing hitches in his throat.  
"She is?" he asks for confirmation.

Jane slowly pulls the sheets off her head and peeks out from under them, resting against the headboard once more.  
She sits up and brings the sheets down to her lap as she raises her head to look at her friend, a heavy blush scattered across her cheeks.

Jane nods her head again.  
"Yeah, she is," she says softly.

Something in the pit of Frost's stomach churns and he turns his vision away from his friend to stare at the wall.  
"I didn't know that you were… gay," Frost says quietly, taken slightly by surprise.

"Neither did I," Jane says with a shrug, chuckling softly as she notices Frost's sudden nervousness.

Frost turns his head back to Jane. "You didn't?"

Jane smirks and shakes her head. "Nope, I had no idea, but then… then I met Maura."

Frost nods in understanding, though honestly he doesn't understand at all.  
"So she's your girlfriend?" Frost asks once more, just to double-triple-check.

Jane nods again, a smile forming on her lips.  
"Yeah, yeah, she is," she replies, the word finally bringing a smile to her face.

"Um, but you guys kind of live, like, 100 years apart," Frost says after a minute.

"I know, I'm not stupid, Frost," Jane says with a hint of annoyance, glaring ever so lightly at her friend.

"Jane," Frost says warningly, closing his eyes in irritation. "You're telling me you have a relationship with some girl who is from 100 years in the past. Please tell me you're not in love," Frost says, demanding an answer as he looks over at his friend.

Jane turns her head away.

"What the fuck, Jane!" Frost yells, standing up from the bed and turning away from his friend.  
"Now you're telling me you fell in love with some girl from a century ago? Jane how fucking stupid can you get?"

Jane winces away and grabs hold of the sheets once more, trying to use them as a shield to protect her against Frost's rational wrath.

"I'm sorry?" Jane tries softly, squinting up at her friend to see if a simply apology can make up for her stupidity this time.

Apparently it's not.

"Jane, basically you've just screwed yourself over. You do realize the chances of her living nowadays are slim, and even if she is she's probably like 120 or something like that. God, dammit Jane, 100 years ago! And you're in love? Don't tell me you expect to continue this hazardous relationship, please don't," Frost pleas, turning around and looking down at Jane on the bed.

Jane sucks in her bottom lip to keep herself from responding; she'd only disappoint Frost more anyways.

"Fuck, you're love struck with a woman from 100 years in the past. If that doesn't spell out depression and suicide then I don't know what the hell does," Frost says, slamming his body back down into Jane's desk chair.

Jane chuckles lightly.  
"Frost, I'm not going to head into depression, and I'm not going to commit suicide. I'm happy, you dimwit."

"Yeah, happy with someone you can't ever truly be with. Ever."

Jane bites her bottom lip in concentration.  
"Why not?" she asks.

Frost sighs, utterly pissed off right now.  
Not in a jealous way or anything like that, because if Jane's happy, he's happy.  
But come on, having your best friend fall in love with someone from 100 years ago in relationship you know that'll never ever be able to work out…

Yeah, he has a right to be pissed off at Jane's stupidity right now.

"Why, what, Jane?" Frost asks with a heavy sigh.

"Why can't we ever truly be together, huh? Who's to say that we can't?" Jane asks, her tone turning rather snappy.

"Why? Why?" Frost mocks with a cynical laugh.  
"God, Jane, you have got to be kidding me! Who's to say you can't? Um, how about all the forces of time for that matter?"

"Screw time," Jane mutters under her breath, crossing her arms in defiance across her chest.

Frost laughs once more, shaking her head in pure disbelief.  
"Honestly, Jane? Screw time? Dude, I'm sorry to break it to you, but you can't fuck with time, all right?"

Jane sends her friend one hell of a nasty glare.

"Then what the hell do you call what I'm already doing against time, huh? What do you call this whole thing of me traveling to the past, and Maura traveling to the future, huh? What kind of explanation do you have for that, mister professor?"

Frost opens his mouth to retort, but he merely seals his lips.

Jane sighs as silence overcomes them, and she gets up from her bed to put on some clothes.  
She walks over to her pile of clothes that she's too lazy to hang up in her closet and leans over to rummage out a t-shirt and jeans.

"Jane, it's never going to work out," Frost says softly.

Jane stills for a moment, but she doesn't respond.  
If Frost thinks that her relationship with Maura won't work… then screw him.  
Jane returns to digging out a fairly unwrinkled t-shirt.

"She's going to die," Frost states simply.

Jane freezes at the words.

And Frost takes the opportunity to continue.  
"Jane, I don't want to be harsh or anything, but it's inevitable, Jane. Maura will die, probably long before you do. They didn't have as much medical knowledge back then as they do today, and people died younger… And Jane, chances are Maura will die y—"

Jane turns around on her heels, dropping the shirt she had in her hands and flexing her hands into fists out of anger.

"You think I didn't already know that?" Jane asks in a yell, glaring directly at her friend.

Frost opens and closes his mouth as he searches for a response, but he ends up speechless.

"Well, guess what Frost, I know that! I'm well aware of the fact that she's going to die. And yes, she's going to die young. She'll die in a year, Frost, one fucking year! I went to her fucking gravestone for fuck's sake!" Jane yells at Frost, throwing her arms about in aggravation. "And do you know how insignificant and powerless that makes me feel?" she asks in a softer voice, bringing her hand up to her chest. "Do you, Frost? She's going to die in less than one year and there's nothing I can fucking do about it…"

They stare at each other for a minute or so, Jane's final whispers lingering in the air around them.  
After a few moments, Jane bows her head and a sob escapes her body, making her entire frame shake as it leaves with a wretched cry from her lips.

"J-Jane?" Frost asks, looking at his friend.  
Is she crying?

No, she can't be.

In all of the 13 years that they've been friends, Frost has only seen Jane cry twice.  
Once was out of pain when Jane was 5 and broke her arm by falling off the top of the jungle gym at the school's playground.  
The second time was when Jane was 13 and the baggage claim at the airport lost her one and only Boston Red Sox cap signed by her favorite player on the way home from their family's vacation.

Twice, only twice, and neither time was over someone's death.  
Jane's been to funerals before, but never before has Frost seen the girl shed a tear over the loss of a loved one.

"Jane?" Frost asks again, walking closer to his friend as he hears little squeaks escaping Jane's body that sound like when his little sister is crying. Jane's shoulders are shaking and her head is bowed, and she keeps making sniffling noises. It's all so un-Jane-like that Frost feels like he's approaching some sort of alien.

Jane shakes her head at Frost; her unruly brown locks swinging from side to side as they lie loose and fall around her bowed head.  
She raises her right hand as if to pause Frost and she walks over to her bed, her head still hanging low.  
Without making any sounds besides sniffles and tiny squeaks that attempt to hide her cries, Jane sits down on the edge of her bed, hunched over with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as a few more sobs wrack through her body.

Frost stares dumbfounded for a minute, doing nothing more than watching his best friend break down right in front of him.

But then his rationality kicks in and he finds himself kneeling next to Jane, his hand reaching out to Jane's shaking shoulder.  
He clasps it firmly and pats in attempt at a soothing manner, trying to calm Jane down.

"Jane, dude, don't… don't cry over it, it's just death, it's natural," Frost tries.  
He crashes and burns.

_Natural? Fuck, I suck at this comforting thing_, Frost thinks to himself as he shakes his head at his own lack of skills.

He goes in for a second try.  
"Come on, Jane, it'll be all right, I swear," he says softly.

Jane wipes at her face and raises her head only a smidge, staring at her friend from the corner of her eyes.  
"How is it going to be alright, Frost, you just said yourself that it'll never work out. Ever," Jane says, another cry cutting through her body.

"But it'll be okay," Frost reassures.

Jane shakes her head and says in soft tone, sniffling as she tries to stop her tears, "You just don't get it, Frost. She's going to die and there's nothing I can do it about it, nothing, Frost, nothing!"

Frost is silent, for he doesn't have any words of consolation to give.

Jane manages to stop her tears and wipe away the trails as she brings her breathing back to normal.

After a minute or so, Frost smiles softly and pats Jane on the back.  
"Hey, you know what, Jane?"

"What?" Jane asks with a shaky voice.

Frost says in a reassuring tone, "You'll think of something. You always do."

* * *

"Maura Dorthea!" the voice of Maura's mother rings throughout the Isles household on the same day as Jane and Frost's conversation, though, of course, 100 years in the past.

Footsteps are heard as Maura descends the stairs at the sound of her mother's voice, coming from somewhere in the first floor of the house. She reaches the bottom of the steps and calls out, "Where are you, Mother?"

"Maura Dorthea, good, we're in the study," she replies in a loud voice, yelling as if Maura is deaf instead of just in the hallway, a few yards away.

Maura sighs at the use of her proper name and makes her way toward the study, bracing herself outside of the entrance before entering, standing up tall and straight with good posture; just the way her mother likes to see.

She enters the study to find her father sitting at the desk, a glass of some sort of light-colored alcohol resting on the space in front of him. Her mother is standing by the window, though with her back turned toward the window so she is facing the rest of the room.

"Yes, Mother?" Maura asks, clasping her hands together and hanging them just below her hips.

She smiles lightly.  
"Oh, good, Maura Dorthea," she says, sounding very pleased to see her daughter.

Maura tries to smile, though she's slightly frightened by her mother's eager tone.  
"What can I do for you, Mother?" she asks, assuming that when she's called there must be some master plan behind it all.

Her mother smiles again.  
"Please, take a seat, Maura Dorthea," she says softly, motioning toward the empty chair near her father's desk.

Maura complies and sits down, moving it slightly so she can see both of her parents at the same time without having to crane her neck to look at her mother.

"Well?" she asks, folding her hands and resting them in her lap.

She takes a moment to glance over at her father, who is also smiling lightly.

"Maura Dorthea, your father and I have been talking," her mother speaks up softly.

Maura holds back her sigh.  
They've been talking? Well, this can never end well.

"What about?" she asks politely, trying to sound remotely interested, though even that proves to be difficult.

"We have noticed you and that Rizzoli girl have been spending quite a lot of time together lately," she says.

Maura swallows and tries to hold back her blush.  
"Yes, and?" she asks, begging for her to move on and get to her point.

"Well, Maura Dorthea, comparing that amount of time you spend with that horrid girl compared to the time you socialize with other ladys your own age…" she trails off, her tone slightly distraught. "You should socialize more with the other young women around here, Maura Dorthea, and not with one girl who comes into town every weekend."

Maura clenches her jaw.  
If only they knew what Jane meant to Maura, then maybe she wouldn't insist on saying stuff like this.

"Mother, please, will you get to your point?" Maura asks.

Her mother glares at her and she bows her head shamefully.  
"Maura Dorthea, when is the last time you have even had dinner with a young man?"

Maura glances up at her mother, her brow furrowed in confusion.  
"I do not know, Mother. Why?"

"That's your Mother's point, Maura Dorthea," her father breaks into the conversation, annoyed with how long his wife can drag any conversation to take.

Maura shakes her head.  
"I… I'm not following," she responds, honestly confused, though she's more so blinded by her stubbornness to understand.

"Maura Dorthea, your father and I have been discussing for the past few weeks," her mother says once again, making Maura focus her attention on her as she continues. "And we have found a bright, sweet, handsome young man who is quite suitable for you to wed."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: I Can't Deal with This Right Now, Mother! **

Maura swallows as her mother's words sink in and her vision goes fuzzy as she stares at the ground, her eyes unfocused as phlegm rises in her throat and dares to fight its way out. She's silent for a moment, her hearing going in and out as her heart rate quickens and she glances around the room for help, for some sort of life saver, but she finds none. Looking around, her eyes fall on her parents, namely her mother and her ecstatic grin as she stares at her daughter impatiently, waiting for her reaction.

"I… I'm sorry, Mother, what?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch as she stares back at her with wide eyes.

Her face falls for a moment, but she forces her smile back into place before responding.  
"Maura Dorthea, he's such a nice gentleman, and his family is well-known—"

"You mean he's rich, Mother, right?" Maura asks, her tone changing from shocked to aggravated within seconds.

"Maura Dorthea, don't interrupt your Mother," Maura's father peeps up, forcing his way into the conversation with his demanding voice, causing Maura to seal her lips almost immediately.

The older woman sighs and purses her lips in distaste at her daughter's reaction; this is not what she expected at all.  
She expected her to at the very least seem slightly thrilled at the idea of a potential husband.

The room is silent for a moment as each family member attempts to calm their urges to shout.  
Maura's mother speaks up after a minute or so has passed.  
"Maura Dorthea?" she asks, gaining her daughter's undivided attention.

Maura raises her head from examining the floor of the study and looks across the room at her mother by the window.  
"Yes, Mother?" she responds, trying to cover up her irritation.

"Tomorrow evening you are to have dinner with him. His parents will be coming with him and we expect you to attend and act like the proper young woman we have raised you to be. Are we understood, Maura Dorthea?"

Maura sighs quietly and twitches at the use of her full name once again.  
She hates it; it's so stiff.

"What's his name?" she asks gently, her soft voice nearly inaudible.

"Hmm?" her mother hums in response, obviously not hearing her question.

"I said," Maura continues louder, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth to hold herself back from biting off her mother's head.  
"What's his name?"

"Oh, his name." Her mother smiles at her question, seeing it as a good sign.  
If she wants to know his name, then she must be mildly interested. Right?  
"His name," she continues with a soft smile, "is Byron Sluc—" (Byron Sluckey)

"Byron?" Maura yells, shooting up from her seat.  
She doesn't know him, but in a way she wishes she does; then maybe it wouldn't be so anonymous and awkward.  
For the time being, the name is enough to drive her away from ever wanting to even meet the poor man.

Both of her parents wince away, slightly frightened by her outburst as they stare with wide eyes at the now standing girl.

Maura releases an angry grunt along the lines of frustration and clenches her hands into small fists, her heart fighting in her chest.

"This cannot be happening!" she says in her own self-pity, images of Jane floating across her mind.  
_  
Jane…  
_  
Her nerves calm as remembrances of her encounters with Jane scamper through her mind.  
The way that voice can send shivers running down her spine and that smile… her insides nearly melt.  
Memories of their first kiss in that abandoned shed only a month or so ago fill her thoughts; the sound of the rain pitter-pattering against the leaking roof, the thunder breaking in the distance, the way Jane had shyly let go of her hand and the way she felt so lost without her touch. Her breath hitches in her throat as she recalls the way Jane had inched her head forward and how her lips felt so incredibly soft against her own, sweeter than any sweets she had ever tasted in her seventeen years of life.  
_  
Seventeen.  
And they expect me to marry some man I barely know… _

As quickly as Jane had entered her thoughts, the brown locked girl quickly vanishes as a million worries pile up in every crevice of her mind, weighing her down like a paperweight as she stands there in front of her parents, the stress multiplying itself by five with each passing second.

"Maura Dorthea?" her mother asks cautiously, peering curiously at her daughter.  
It's not often that she yells back at them, usually never; she's always so well behaved.  
"Maura Dorthea, are you—"

Maura glances at her mother momentarily, cutting her off with teary eyes as she turns on her heels and rushes out of the study, not daring to look back. She picks up speed and jogs away from the room, heading straight toward the front door, trying to ignore the footsteps echoing down the corridor behind her.

"Maura Dorthea!" her mother's voice persists, following her down the hallway like a shadow, refusing to leave her side.  
"Maura Dorthea!"

"Mother, let me be, please!" she calls over her shoulder as she reaches the front door.  
She grips the round knob and turns the cold metal in her right hand, her fingers grasping onto it for dear life as she tries to let out her frustration. She swings open the front door and allows it to bounce against the wall with a slam as she hastily stomps out of the house and runs down the three steps from the porch and into the front yard, all the while trying to close her ears at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Maura Dorthea Isles! Maura Dorthea, come back here this instance!" her voice wails like a nagging pain in the side.  
"Maura Dorthea!" she continues to call, hustling her way down the corridor and halting in the doorframe of the front entrance to the house, watching her daughter's shrinking form as she disappears into the hazy light of dusk, her dark outline blending in with the darkening sky as the fireflies pop up randomly throughout the yard, distracting her vision from focusing on her daughter.

"Maura Dorthea, where on earth do you think you are going?" she calls after her in vain.

"I can't deal with this right now, Mother!" her dying voice returns back to her on the front stoop, reaching her with all its pain still mixed in with all the misery and frustration of her daughter.

She sighs at the response and shakes her head.  
Since when had Maura gotten so disobedient?

"Maura Dorthea Isles!" she calls once more out into the yard, her voice carrying through the night and stirring the pleasant fireflies.

But this time, silence is her only response from the vacant yard.

* * *

"Dude, just chill, alright man? Everything will work out, it always does for you anyways," Frost says with a smirk.

Jane smiles halfheartedly and leans against the open front door as she watches her friend descend the front steps off the porch.  
"Yeah, I really hope you're right this time, Frost," she responds gently.

"I am," her friend says, waving goodbye before taking off in a jog across the front lawn and into the street toward his own house.

Jane laughs bitterly and shakes her head.  
"I sure as hell hope you are," she mutters under her breath as she closes the front door with a soft click, and she sighs heavily.

She makes her way into the kitchen where her mom is hunched over, her head and arms searching through the refrigerator.

"Hey Ma, what's for dinner?" she asks as she drops her body into one of the kitchen chairs.

A heavy sigh echoes its way against the inside of the refrigerator and travels out into the kitchen as Angela, her mother, straightens up, propping her hands on her hips as she turns around and stares at her daughter, letting out a huff.

"Well, I guess pizza, unless you feel like running to the grocery store and then cooking for the rest of us," she says, smiling softly.

"Nah, pizza's fine," she confirms.

"Good," Angela says, turning around and closing the door of the nearly empty refrigerator.  
"Does Barry want to stay?"

"He just left."

"Oh, okay," Angela replies as she opens one of the cabinets and pulls out an envelope full of coupons.  
She flips through them in the search for one for a pizza place, but she pauses as she hears Jane release a deep sigh.  
She turns around to see Jane sitting at the kitchen table with her head bowed in what resembles defeat, weighed down with the stress of the world. Her shoulders are slumped and there's a look of total loss in her eyes.

"Honey, you okay?" she asks in a motherly tone.

She doesn't even bother to raise her head as she responds.  
"Fine, just tired," she says with a distant stare, unconsciously picking at a nick in the wood of the table.

Angela shakes her head and walks over to her daughter, knowing her too well to know when it's truly much more than simple fatigue.

"Did you have fun hanging out with Barry?"

Jane shrugs.

"I was hoping a visit from him would do you some good," she says softly as she stands next to her daughter. She places her hand on the side of Jane's head and gently brushes through her loose brown locks. In response, Jane lets out a calm sigh and leans her head against her mother's side as she stands next to her chair, closing her eyes as she allows her body to relax. "You've been so down the past couple of days, it worries me sometimes."

Jane breathes in and out slowly as her mother's hand combs through her hair caringly.  
She doesn't want her to worry; she wants to tell her she's fine.  
But she can't bring herself to say the words.

"You know you can tell me anything and I'll try my best to find a way to help," she says softly, hoping that for once Jane won't keep everything bottled up like she usually does.

"It's nothing, really," she tries, speaking softly.

Angela chuckles and wraps both arms around her daughter, kneeling down to embrace her properly.  
"You know I don't believe that, but if you insist," she replies with a smirk, so much like her daughter's.

Jane sighs once again as she leans against her mother, resting her head against her shoulder in their light embrace.

They're both silent for a moment, until Jane peeps up.  
"Hey Ma?"

"Yes, sweetie?" she asks, tightening her grip around her daughter for a split second before releasing her.

"Do you have that big genealogy book that Grandma gave you?" she asks, glancing up at her with a spark of hope in her eyes.

Angela furrows her brow in confusion at her daughter's question, but she nods.  
"Yes, of course I have it. I think it's still out in the dining room from earlier this week when Frankie was us—"

Jane sprints into the dining room and leaves her mother standing in the kitchen, utterly dumbfounded as she watches her daughter dash off into the other room. She returns within seconds, taking her seat once more and flipping open a binder full of names, dates, and family trees; a history of her bloodline.

She chews on her lower lip as she skims the pages before turning to the next, speed-reading down the center of the page as she looks for one specific name.

"Janie… what in heavens are you doing?" her mother asks, taking a seat in the empty kitchen chair next to her daughter, watching her flip madly through the pages of their family's history, all put together thanks to her own mother. Jane's grandma was such a history nut, a complete opposite of Angela, though she has to admit that some of the qualities have rubbed off on her. After all, she's kept this genealogy book around and handy instead of throwing it out.

Jane doesn't respond to her mother, nor does she even acknowledge her question.  
She merely continues flipping through the pages, not stopping until she reaches a page with a few Xeroxed black and white photographs.  
And surely enough, staring straight back at her are the familiar faces of a stiff smiling family of four from the early 1900s.

She scans over the image, her eyes watering as they fall upon a smiling honey blonde dressed in a nice dress for a family photograph.  
The girl smiles up at Jane with the same set of pearly whites that she has grown to love over the past months.

"Jane, sweetie…" Angela questions cautiously, watching her daughter seem to be engulfed in some photograph of their distant relatives.

Jane glances up from the page to her mother and stares at her like she's just noticing her presence in the room for the first time.  
She bites her lip and moves her vision back to the open page of photocopied photographs in front of her.  
Wanting answers, she slides the open binder across the table and in front of her mother.

Angela looks over the open page that her daughter slid in front of her, and she smiles softly as she looks at the face of her young grandfather, James. He looked so different as a little boy, yet he always seemed to have that same stubborn look on his face. She can't help but laugh gently.

Jane taps her index finger on the photograph, pointing directly at Maura.  
"What happened to her?"

Angela shakes her head as she comes out of her thoughts and listens to her daughter's question, not following her completely.  
She glances at the caption of names beneath the photograph and reads the listed name "Maura Dorthea" next to that of her grandfather's.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" she asks, staring at her daughter with a perplexed look on her face.

Jane sighs, seemingly annoyed with her own mother's incapability to follow her train of thought.  
"Well, first off, you've never even mentioned her before. Why not?"

Angela looks down at the photograph once more.  
"She's your great-great-aunt, your great-grandfather's sister," she explains.

Jane rolls her eyes. She already figured that part out.  
"Frankie's family tree…" she says softly, trailing off.

"What about it?" Angela asks, directing her gaze back at Jane.

"For Maura, Maura Dorthea, it said she died when she was 18. How? I mean, why'd she die so young?" Jane asks with more curiosity than her mother even knew she had. She's staring at her with eyes that demand answers.

"Well…" Angela begins softly, staring longingly at the photograph as she runs an absentminded finger around the faces.  
"Grandma and Grandpa, my grandparents, never really talked about her very much. Actually they strayed away from it as much as possible."

Jane stares at her, silently pleading her to go on, to explain more.

"Honestly, they're not sure if she died at that age…"

Jane blinks her eyes, her brow furrowing in confusion.  
"What do you mean they weren't sure?"

"They never found her body," Angela says, raising her eyes to look at her daughter who is literally hanging on her words.  
"She ran away when she was 18, but no one ever saw her again."

Jane nods her head understandingly, remaining silent for a moment and looking as if she's trying to wrap her mind around her words, though honestly she's holding herself back from pounding her poor mother with more questions that she probably doesn't even have answers for.

"Do you know why she ran off?" she asks after she decides enough time has passed.

Angela purses her lips as she stares at the photograph and then closes the binder.  
She shakes her head.  
"No, not the whole story. The most anyone ever told me was that she turned out to be nothing more than a public disgrace to the family name."

"Oh," Jane says, chewing on her bottom lip in thought once more, unconsciously wringing her hands together.  
"But she didn't die that young?"

Angela laughs lightly and shakes her head in pure amusement at her daughter as she stands up from the chair and returns to searching for a coupon.

"Not that any of us know of," she says with a laugh.  
"But I guess that'll remain a mystery forever."

Jane lets out a small chuckle, trying to sound a bit normal, but doing so is quite difficult when she wants nothing more than to laugh at the face of time. But of course, if she didn't actually die so young, then what happened to her? And what's the whole deal with the public disgrace thing?

Angela glances over her shoulder at her currently smiling daughter, her change in mood bringing a proud smile to her face.  
Then her eyes fall on the binder full of their family's past that's resting on the tabletop and her smile falters ever so slightly.  
"Jane?" she asks.

"Yeah, Ma?"

Her mom turns her body all the way around and she leans against the counter, her forehead creasing in slight confusion.  
"Why the sudden questions about all that? And your great-great-aunt of all people?" she asks with a strangled laugh.

Jane shrugs and stands from her chair.  
"No reason, really. It's just been on my mind," she says over her shoulder as she walks out of the kitchen and heads up the stairs to her room, leaving her mother drowning in a sea of confusion in the kitchen.

* * *

_Ding-Dong!_

Din-din-ding-din-din-dong!

The impatient doorbell echoes with a slight buzz throughout the Rizzoli household later that evening, not too long after Jane had left the kitchen and fled to the safe haven of her bedroom to avoid any further questioning from her bewildered mother.

"Coming!"  
_  
Din-din-ding-dong! _

"God, I'm coming, hold your horses, people!" Frankie says loudly in exasperation as he reaches the front door and yanks it open, annoyed with this unexpected visitor for being so incredibly impatient. He pauses in his tracks as his eyes widen slightly at the sight of the visitor.

Standing before him is a honey blonde that looks to be about the same age as his older sister.  
Okay, scratch that, a rather _cute_ girl who looks to be about his sister's age.  
He blushes and smiles up at her.

"Um, hi," he stammers out nervously, feeling even younger than he already is.

She had been standing there with her arms crossed against her chest, hugging herself as she continually told herself not to cry.  
Looking down at the face of someone other than her Jane, she wipes the distraught look off her face.

She smiles softly at the young boy.  
"Oh, hello," she says in gentle tone. "You must be… Frankie?" she questions, not sure if she got his name correct or not.

Frankie's blush deepens and he forces himself to nod.  
"Um, yeah, how'd you know?"

The young woman giggles and her smile widens.  
"Your sister has told me quite a handful about you," she says.  
"Speaking of your sister, does she happen to be here at the moment?"

Frankie bites his lip and glances into the house before nodding at the visitor.  
"Mm, yeah, I think she's upstairs. Wait, who are you exactly?" he asks, looking the visitor up and down, holding back a laugh at her ridiculously old-fashioned clothing.

"Oh, I'm Maura, Jane's…" she says and trails off.  
"Friend," she settles on, finding it best not to mention their relationship status quite yet.

"Oh, okay," Frankie says and moves to the side, allowing Maura entrance into the Rizzoli house.  
"She should be up in her room," he adds on and closes the front door behind Maura before heading off into the other room.

"Thanks," Maura calls after him, watching him leave before she heads toward the staircase.  
Sniffling once and imagining Jane's arms around her, she dashes up the stairs as quickly as possible, remembering from her first visit earlier that week that Jane's room is the one on the right at the top of the stairs.

Not bothering to knock, she throws open the door to Jane's room and walks in a few steps, just far enough to close the door behind her.

She closes the door with a soft click and turns to face the rest of the room.  
Jane is sitting on the edge of her bed; a guitar perched on her lap as she strums through a song completely unknown to Maura.

She glances over at the door, expecting to see her mom or Frankie standing there to come and bug her, but her eyes widen as she stares at the one person she never expected to burst into her bedroom.

"M-Maura?" she questions, as if maybe she's only seeing things.

"Jane…" Maura sniffles in a gentle tone, her voice cracking as the tears of frustration and stress finally take their victory and stream down her cheeks, falling to the ground as the drops reach her chin and tumble off.

"Oh my god, Maura," Jane says and carelessly moves her guitar off her lap and tosses it next to her on the mattress.  
She leaps up from her spot and takes a few strides to meet Maura near the door, instantly wrapping her arms around Maura's trembling frame.

Maura's crying thickens as she falls against Jane, letting her body lean against Jane's as she allows her body to shut down, her tears flowing continuously like rivers breaking through a dam as she buries her head as far as it will go into the crook of Jane's neck.

"Jane," she whispers between her sobs and wails, her cries muffled by Jane's shoulder.

"Shh, Maura, baby, it's all right," Jane coos into Maura's hair, holding Maura against her as she tries to soothe her by merely holding her.

Maura stiffens in her arms.  
"Don't call me a baby," she mutters into Jane's neck.

Jane chuckles and runs her hands across Maura's back in soothing circles, shaking her head in amusement. _Of course, she's probably never been called "baby" in a loving manner since she was a child_, Jane thinks to herself, forgetting the generation gap once again.

"I'm sorry," Jane says into Maura's hair, trying not to laugh as Maura continues to release choked sobs.

"Jane!" Maura wails, tightening her grip on Jane's back, nearly digging her nails through the thin cotton material of Jane's shirt and breaking the skin of Jane's shoulders.

Jane sighs and walks Maura over to her bed, never daring to break their embrace along the way.  
She sits down and brings Maura to sit sideways in her lap, curled against her chest and crying her eyes out with her head still securely tucked under Jane's chin.

Jane holds Maura tightly against her body, cradling her like a baby and planting soothing kisses across the top of Maura's head, burying her nose in Maura's hair as she breathes in the unique scent.

"Shh, Maura… what's wrong, what happened?" Jane asks softly as she notices Maura begin to calm down slightly, her cries becoming less strangled with each dying sob that wracks through her body.

Maura sniffles and wipes at her face, her vision blurred with tears and her eyes puffy as she tries to talk with a normal voice.

"My parents," she mutters, her voice filled with distaste as a few silent tears tumble down her cheeks.

With Maura's head still resting against her chest, Jane asks gently, "What about them?"

"They… they…" Maura begins and stutters only to trail off to sniffling as she tries to hold back any more sobs.

"They what?" Jane asks as she begins to grow rather anxious, a hundred different scenarios run through her mind, all of them revolving around some sort of terrible, horrifying accident with blood and guts.

But Maura replies with the one scenario that Jane had failed to even think of.

"They want me to get married," she responds in a soft tone, distress and loss evident in her voice as she closes her eyes in frustration and clings to Jane's chest in search for an escape.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Long Lost Relative **

"M-married?" Jane questions as she tightens her grip around Maura, holding her tighter than she ever has in the past. Maura nods in response, biting her lip to hold back her tears. If she were to speak right now, the tears would flow and she's not sure if she'd be capable of stopping them. "Oh god," Jane mumbles as she pulls Maura farther onto her lap so she can hold her even closer, cradling her in her arms like a kitten. "But you're only 17."

Maura nods again. "I know," she manages to squeak out in response without crying.

"17," Jane repeats in a whisper, trying to imagine herself being pushed into marriage at such an age and she can't even imagine that. She's too young to hold that much responsibility. She still has to go to college and then meet the right person and then maybe, just maybe, she'd consider ever settling down with the one. To be with that one true love person who was put on earth just to be with her.

She shivers as she looks down at Maura in her arms. At this point in time, if she were asked whom her one true love is, without even taking a second to think about it, she'd claim that person to be Maura. True, she's never been with a girl before in her entire life, but she has this gut feeling that it's okay to be with Maura.

But if Maura is that one person who was put on earth to be with Jane, then why is God so incredibly cruel to her?  
They're an entire century apart; there's no logical way in which they could be together without fudging with history.

"I don't wanna marry him," Maura mumbles against Jane's chest, her words muffled.

Jane shakes her head, startled by Maura's voice. She had been so drawn up in her thoughts she didn't hear Maura's entire statement.  
"Huh?" She directs her attention to the girl in her arms once more, shoving away her thoughts.

Maura squirms in Jane's arms before repeating herself. "I said, I don't want to marry him."

"Do you know who he is?" Jane asks gently, not entirely prepared to hear the answer.

Maura makes a movement that slightly resembles one shaking their head. "Byron something. I don't know him. He's a stranger and yet Mother and Father wish for me to marry him." Her voice cracks as she finishes and a sob wracks through her body, tears literally pouring from her eyes as she grabs hold of Jane's t-shirt and buries her face in the soft cotton.

Jane shushes Maura and moves her body completely onto the bed, legs and all as she leans against the wall on the other side of the bed. Pulling Maura as close as humanly possible, she tucks the honey blonde woman in her arms and surrounds the crying girl like a protective shield from the rest of the world. If only she could serve as a barrier to the past.

"I don't want to marry him, I don't, I don't," Maura mumbles incoherently between her cries, shedding her tears onto Jane's shirt.

"Shh, I know, I know, Maur," Jane reassures, placing soft kisses to Maura's shoulders and the top of her head, being that those are the only places she can reach in this tight position. "I don't want you to marry him either," she whispers in a soft, caring tone, tightening her embrace around Maura.

Maura returns the hug and tries to calm her crying, the sobs quieting to nothing more than shallow, ragged breaths.

Calming down enough, Maura slowly loosens her grip, Jane doing likewise as they disentangle themselves. Maura pulls away, but remains on Jane's lap. She sniffles and looks directly at Jane. The brown locked girl merely returns her stare.

"Maura?" Jane questions after a few moments. Maura cocks her head to the side to show that she's listening. "Maura, do you have to marry him?"

Maura bites her lip as she sniffles once again. "Most likely. Both Mother and Father are tired of my refusals to the past four… There's no doubt they'll push as far as they can on this one."

Jane nods like she understands, though she doesn't agree with the reasoning. She sucks in her bottom lip to control herself from spurting out one crazy idea. If she didn't have the sense to hold onto her tongue, she'd be on her knees begging for Maura to just stay here with her, in the present. She'd tell her to live here forever, to escape the marriage and her parents, to escape the treacherous past, to bypass fate and hide out in the future where she'll be safe under Jane's wing.

But, no.

Such an idea won't work, will it?  
Frost was right about one thing; Jane can't go fucking with time.  
And that definitely means she can't go around pulling random people out of the past.

Jane can't pull Maura out of the timeline before her time; only God knows what would happen then.  
The entire world could change. Others could die. History might possibly change.  
Pulling one person out of the time sequence could set off an entirely different chain of events that could lead to some people not even existing in the present day.

And thinking back to that genealogy book downstairs and the date on that gravestone, Jane knows for a fact that Maura doesn't run off and disappear for another year. If she were to interfere with that date, she's not sure what kind of hell could possibly break loose.

Jane pulls Maura back again, holding her close as she embraces her in another tight bear hug, holding her close to her own body. "I don't want you to marry him," she whispers gently, her parted lips near the opening of Maura's ear. "_I_ love you," she confirms, her voice showing possession and slight hurt.

Maura giggles softly, though it reveals no signs of humor. "But I can't marry you, Ms. Rizzoli."

Jane stiffens at the words, her heart twisting and a pain shooting straight into her abdomen, like someone took a knife, stabbed it into her lower stomach, and twisted it in satanic agony. "I know that," Jane reassures in a flat voice, no emotions evident in her tone as she tries to convince herself that she actually did know that.

Maura curls her body a little more in Jane's arms and shifts so that she can look up at the brown locked teen. "I love you, too, Ms. Rizzoli," she promises to the woman whose arms she is lying in. She's never felt safer in her entire life, and yet fate is so malicious to her.  
For she has to feel safe in the arms of the one she can never easily be with.

Jane tilts her head to look down at Maura, their eyes connecting with a force beyond control.  
An uncontrollable blush scatters across Maura's cheeks as she smiles up at Jane.  
Jane merely leans forward and plants a soft kiss to Maura's lips, sealing her love with a butterfly kiss.

As she sits back up, she tucks a stray strand of hair behind Maura's ear and smiles gently before speaking. "Then don't marry—"

"Jane!" a voice sings through the doorway as her bedroom door is pushed open with a useless knock that doesn't wait for a response. Jane and Maura both turn their heads to see Jane's brother standing at the entrance to the room, a look of slight shock gracing his features as he observes the current position the two girls are curled in. "Jane?" he questions with one arched eyebrow.

The brown locked teen chews on her bottom lip as her cheeks turn a dark shade of scarlet, her arms stiffening around Maura in shock.  
"What do you want, Frankie?" she asks in attempt of a normal voice, trying to act like this is a completely normal thing for her, as if she's always holding girls intimately. Who's she kidding? She's only ever been with boys in the past, but even then, she's only been with a few boys.

"Um," Frankie begins softly, his eyes widening as they run over the ways in which her sister is holding this girl he met only fifteen minutes before. And from the blushes on both of their faces, he knows more than hugging went on. At the very least, one kiss was shared. "Uh, Ma wanted me to, uh, come and tell you the pizza's here…"

"Oh, okay."

"Is your, uh, f-friend staying for dinner?" Frankie manages to stutter out as a question, trying his best not to laugh at the situation.  
His sister with a girl, a proper girl at that; it's ironic, no doubt.

Jane glances down at the girl in her arms. "So, stay for dinner?"  
Maura smiles softly and responds, "That would be lovely."

"Alright," Frankie says from the door, attempting to hide a smirk. "Well, come and get it soon, before it gets cold."

"Okay, we'll be down in a couple minutes," Jane replies and looks at the doorway until she hears the bottom step release a loud creak as Frankie reaches the first floor of the house.

Without speaking another word, Jane gently moves Maura from her lap and gets up from the bed, heading to the closet.  
She pulls out a familiar pair of clothes, the shirt and jeans that Maura had worn the first time she had visited the future.  
She hands them over to Maura and then closes the bedroom door with a soft click.  
"You might want to put those on," she says quietly.

Maura smiles, nods, and stands up from the bed.  
She changes quickly and quietly, trying not to chuckle at Jane's lingering embarrassment from only moments before.

As soon as she's changed, both girl walk out of the room and head down the stairs and to the kitchen where the smell of pepperoni pizza is calling them. And without thinking twice about it, they walk into the kitchen without a worry in the world as to who awaits them.

"Oh my… dear lord."

Both Maura and Jane look up from the pizza box to meet Angela's shocked, wide-eyed face.  
She's staring directly at Maura like she's face to face with a ghost.  
Well, not quite.

Angela plops down into an empty chair and continues to stare at Maura with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.  
Is that not the spitting image of her grandfather's sister?  
Is that not the same girl that Jane was questioning her about merely an hour ago?

"Y-you're… no, you can't be her, but you l-look," Angela stutters and mumbles as she looks at the honey blonde teen who can't be a year older than her own daughter. "You l-look just like her… What's your name?"

Maura takes a large gulp of air before responding, realizing that this woman's shock has to deal with some sort of time discrepancies.  
She may not be incredibly sure what's going on, but she can tell from the look on her face and the wide-eyes on Jane's that she's going to need to come up with some sort of story, and quick.

"Mom, um, this is my friend, Maura," Jane says quickly.

"Maura? Just like…" she trails off to silence.  
Without saying anything else, she stands and leaves the room, returning several seconds later with the infamous genealogy binder in hand.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she lays the book on the tabletop and begins flipping through the pages.  
Within seconds she's opened to the right page, the photograph of Maura and her family staring up at all of them.

She looks at the photograph, up at Maura, and then back at the photograph once more.  
"Will someone please, please explain this to me?" she asks in a trembling voice, not even sure of what to expect.

The two girls crowd around her and look over her shoulders to see the photograph.  
Maura gasps softly, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.  
"That's…"

Angela whips her head to the side, staring at Maura with an incredulous look.  
Maura merely uncovers her mouth and smiles sweetly at Angela, her eyes sparkling.  
"My mother always told me I was named for a long lost relative," she says quietly in a cracking voice. "Yes, comical thing about being adopted is you do not exactly know your relatives directly."

"Long lost relative?" she asks.

Maura nods her head. "Mmhmm, an aunt of the sorts. I don't know the proper bloodline, but she always said I look just like her."

Jane smiles as she looks over at Maura, a wave of relief washing over her as she listens to her speak.  
_She's a good actor_, she can't help but think to herself.

"Wow," Angela says softly, looking back at the open pages in front of her. "A whole branch of the family we didn't even know about." Jane holds back a laugh at her mother's astonishment. Of course, there's not really a branch of the family they don't know about; it's fake. It's just a cover story that Maura surprisingly came up with on the spot.

"Do you mind?" Maura asks as she motions towards the open binder. Angela shakes her head.  
Taking a seat, Maura looks at the photograph. She remembers taking this one; it actually wasn't too long ago, to be honest.  
James was complaining about having to wear the stiff, itchy suit that Mother had picked out special, but in the end he complied.  
And getting the picture taken, it felt like hours until they were allowed to stop smiling. Their cheeks hurt so much after that.

She smiles softly and runs her fingers over the photograph, her heart swelling as she realizes someone actually cares enough to hold onto this photograph 100 years in the future. She thought it was some useless family photograph taken only to please Mother, not to be held onto as a family heirloom.

She turns the page only to see a few more random pictures, most of them revolving around James and some woman she's never met.

Turning another page, she comes to a faded white page with lots of text on it.  
Scanning over it, she reads a handful of names followed by dates, dates of birth and dates of… death.

She swallows deeply as her eyes fall upon her own name.  
_  
Maura Isles  
B. August 7, 1890  
D. March 4, 1909  
_  
Her face drains of all color and her hand begins trembling, shaking the page as she holds it in between her fingers.

A strange feeling overcomes her insides, moving about and making her feel like she's about to be sick, the smell of this strange food filling the room quickly reaching her nostrils and carrying bile up and making it tickle the back of her throat in a threatening manner.

She springs up from her seat, gaining the attention of everyone else in the room as she turns on her heels and sprints out of the room, forgetting to even mumble an excuse for her actions.

She runs up the staircase she came down only minutes before and heads in the general direction she remembers from a couple weeks ago. Turning a corner, she dashes into the bathroom and halts in front of the sink, gripping the edges of the shiny white porcelain with her fingers. She holds on for dear life, gasping as she tries to hold back what dares to shoot back up from her stomach.

"Maura!" a voice shouts in question, sounding like a yelling whisper as the human it's coming from enters the bathroom only seconds behind Maura.

Maura doesn't move from her position, nor does she acknowledge the other person's presence in the room. She hears the door close with a soft click and she feels a hand cautiously touch her shoulder, fingers wrapping around her in a comforting manner.

With her eyes still closed, Maura allows the person behind her to pry her fingers off of the sink and guide her body to the toilet.  
Slowly, very slowly, she's pushed down to her knees and she opens her eyes to see a bowl of more white porcelain.

Her insides churn as a wave of thoughts run through her head.  
_My d-death… my date of death… I… I'm going to die…_  
"Next year," she mutters under her ragged breaths, her thoughts forming out loud now.

With a wave of dizziness washing over her, Maura leans forward and releases all of her stomach's contents into the open bowl.  
Her body wracks with the violent blow and she grips onto the rim of the toilet with all her might as she gags again.

"Shh, it's alright," Jane whispers as she holds back Maura's hair with one hand and rubs comforting circles on her back with the other.

Maura shakes her head and spits into the toilet before wiping at her mouth and sitting up.  
She sits back on her heels and turns to look at Jane, tears flowing from her eyes as she shakes her head in disagreement.

"No, it's not all right, how can you say that, Ms. Rizzoli, how?" she asks between ragged breaths, her lower lip trembling.  
"It's not alright, and it's not going to be alright, Ms. Rizzoli."

Jane stares back at Maura with her mouth hanging slightly ajar, unsure of what to say in response to that.  
She's right; after all, who's to say it's going to be all right?  
That's no guarantee, it never is.

Finding no reassurance, Jane merely reaches over and flushes the toilet, trying to flush away all of Maura's worries at the same time.  
However, it's not so easy to flush away one's worries.

"It's not alright, it's not," Maura says again, her voice nearing a whisper as she shifts off of her heels and leans back against the edge of the bathtub. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them tightly as she stares over at Jane. With a trembling bottom lip and tears welling in her eyes once more, she says in cracking voice, "Jane, I'm going to die…"

Jane stares off into the distance, a far-off look in her eyes as she tries to work together a few words of reassurance, but she finds none.  
What could one possibly say to someone who just saw her own date of death?

But then Jane remembers that Maura doesn't necessarily die, she disappears, runs away.  
To where, she's not sure.  
Hopefully to some place safe.

She opens her mouth to speak, but as soon as she does, Maura stands up and runs out of the room.  
"I have to go, Jane," she says quickly on her way out, not even bothering to say goodbye as she sprints down the steps and out the front door.

"Maura, wait!" Jane calls after her in vain, already hearing the front door slam shut.  
"Shit," she mumbles and scrambles to her feet, following close behind in Maura's tracks.

The brown locked woman runs after the honey blonde woman all the way to the park, calling her name the whole time, but Maura refuses to turn around and pay attention to her. Right now, all she wants is to curl up in her bed and hide from the world. Problem is, her bed is 100 years in the past.

Thinking she's finally caught her, Jane reaches the post in the park seconds too late.  
She comes to a skidding halt as she sees Maura vanish right before her eyes.  
"Maura!" she calls once more, her voice strained and pitiful.

She hurries to the post and wraps her fingers around the handle, prepared to jiggle it when logic comes to mind.  
If Maura has run this far, then she probably doesn't need Jane following her all the way home.  
Defeated and lowering her head a few millimeters, Jane releases the handle and walks away, headed back to her own house.

* * *

Maura appears back in her yard in utter darkness, the only light illuminating the yard is the faint moonlight shining from a thin crevice. She shudders as she looks up into the night sky, wondering if it's the same sky she saw 100 years in the future. Would the sky be different with time?

She shakes her head and begins walking toward her house. But for some reason, she pauses and looks down. "Oh, shucks," she mutters as her eyes fall upon the t-shirt and jeans Jane had given her. She forgot to change before running off.

She runs to the side of the house and looks up at the windows, each one of them leading to dark bedroom.  
She stops below one and picks up a small pebble from the edge of the garden in front of her.  
Taking a deep breath she aims it up at the window above her and tosses it. It hits the pane of glass with a soft thud.

After a few more pebbles, the light in the room turns on and a shadow comes to the window, and lifts it up.  
James appears in the open space, and he rubs his eyes tiredly while looking down at the shadow figure in the yard.

"Maura?" he asks in a voice drooling with fatigue.

"James, yes, it is I."

"Maura, Mother's been worried sick about you. Where did you run off? We've been searching around here for hours!" James exclaims in a whisper, leaning out the window and squinting down at his older sister. _What's she wearing? _

Maura sighs. "I'll tell you about it later, James, I need you to do me a favor. Can you grab a change of clothes from my room?"

"Yes, what are you wearing?" James asks incredulously.

"James," Maura warns through gritted teeth. "Please, just—"

"Okay, okay, I'll be right back," James says and disappears back into the house. He returns in seconds and throws down Maura's nightclothes. He turns away as Maura disappears into the shadows and he can hear the movement of fabric brushing together.

Maura changes quickly and leaves the clothes from Jane hidden in the bushes. "Thanks, James," she calls up to her brother before rushing off to the front door. She quietly turns the knob and slips her way into the house. Making her way farther into the house and hiding among the shadows, she can only think of making her way upstairs and curling up in her bed.

Right now her limbs feel like she's carried a seven-ton boulder across a plain.  
With the aching knowledge she acquired at Jane's, she feels like she's walking in an eerie nightmare, unable to wake up.

Sighing quietly and wrapping her fingers around the banister to make her way up the stairs, she's prepared to fall asleep and hopefully dream away everything that has happened today, starting with her parents and the ridiculous wish for her marriage.

Thinking of the devil…

"Maura Dorthea?" her mother's voice rings from the other room, slight worry and annoyance evident in her tone, causing Maura to freeze dead in her tracks.

* * *

**Hi** **everyone! I hope you all are still enjoying this story. There are still many chapters to go. If you are not enjoying this story it would help me out to leave a comment telling me why. I enjoy all views. For instance, I got a message telling me about a certain thing in my writing which that person didn't like. Because of that, I have gotten the opportunity to improve my writing. I am not criticizing that person. I am commending that person. Thank you for your input. Moreover, if you just want to comment on things you've read in the story go ahead. I appreciate reading your thoughts. Anyway, stay with me and let's see where this Rizzles journey takes us.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry about the name mix-up in the last chapter.("He returns in seconds and throws down Bill's nightclothes.") I was talking to my brother Bill when I was writing it and I must have typed his name down instead of Maura's. My bad. :p Thank you to all of those that have pointed that out to me. I have gone back and fixed it. Furthermore, here is chapter 12. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Don't You Forget About Our Little Talk **

Maura's grip on the banister tightens and she grits her teeth at the sound of her mother's voice. She can't deal with her right now; she might go utterly mad if she has to sit through a lecture about running off.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she stays glued in her tracks. Maybe if she's silent for a few seconds her mother will assume she's only hearing the wind or something, even though there's no wind on this night.

The sound of the floor creaking beneath a pair of light footsteps meets Maura's ears and she stiffens in her spot.  
"Maura Dorthea, there you are. Where in heavens have you been?" her mother asks with a taste of bitterness and disappointment.

Ever so slowly, Maura opens her eyes and takes another deep breath before turning around to meet her mother's gaze.  
"Upstairs, Mother, I came down for a glass of water," she tries in attempt of a tiny white lie, keeping her face as straight as possible.

Her mother squints at her daughter and purses her lips. "Of course, Maura Dorthea, but it's quite interesting I never saw you enter the kitchen. I've been sitting in there for the past half hour."

"Oh, well, I was only coming down now," Maura blurts out softly, showing no signs of lying.

Maura notices her mother purse her lips even tighter in distaste, though she decides to let it slide. There's no point in arguing at this hour of the night anyways, it would only wake the others and they don't need that right now.

"Well," her mother says gently, doing her best to hide her disappointment in her daughter's actions. "Go rest, Maura Dorthea, I do not want you looking exhausted at tomorrow evening's dinner." With a soft peck to Maura's cheek, she walks around her daughter and ascends the steps to retire to bed for the first time this evening. At least now she can fall asleep without the worry of where in the world her daughter could possibly be. Now she can rest peacefully.

Maura, however, is not as easily assured as her mother.  
She stays standing in the same position, still gripping the banister as she stares off into the darkness of the vacant hallway, her vision going in and out of focus.

The dinner tomorrow evening, she had almost forgotten about it.

Her fingers tighten around the top of the banister, wrapping around it so firmly that her knuckles turn white from the force.  
Anger boils in the pit of her stomach and a fire flares in her eyes at the thought of being forced to attend such an event against her will.

She doesn't have time for such silly, pointless happenings, especially not when she only has… less than a year to live.

Her knees buckle and her legs shake. A wave of dizziness washes through her body and brings her down to the ground with a silent crash, the sound going unnoticed by every creature in the night. Her grip on the banister is yanked out of her reach as she falls to the ground, still conscious though her mind is somewhere else entirely. Curling her legs upward for a more comfortable position, she situates her body on the bottom step and wraps her fingers around the base of the banister, leaning her head against it as she stares off into the hazy oblivion of the dark hallway.

Her thoughts run amuck in her mind, fumbling and fidgeting and merging together as they flash by as one huge blur, though they all point to her death.

Her death…

She holds onto the banister even tighter as another wave of dizziness washes through her body and dares to knock her unconscious.  
But she holds onto reality and pulls her way through, refusing to be sucked down into the world of unconsciousness.

She closes her eyes to hold back the tears that begin to well and she takes a deep breath to try and calm her shaking nerves.  
However, it's no use; her nerves are long past the point of being able to calm. Instead they're in a constant state of fidgeting.

It's hell.  
This must be hell.  
Knowing such hideous knowledge as your own death date.

It's bloody fucking hell.

It's a simple date, nothing more than a bunch of numbers shoved together and used to signify one certain day of the year.  
Yet somehow those numbers can hold so much meaning and so much importance.  
Those numbers are capable of driving one utterly insane.

Knowing the numbers of her own date of death, Maura feels like she's just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. It's as if the doctor came into the room only moments ago and diagnosed her with such and such a disease, and with a practiced look of slight sympathy the doctor said, in attempt of a saddened voice, that she only has 11 months to live.

Maura collapses against the banister, letting go of her muscles, as she turns to a puddle of goop at the bottom of the stairs, unable to hold her head up high any longer. The fatigue and exhaustion is too much for her to handle and it overwhelms not only her body, but also her mind, smearing all of her thoughts into incoherent words and pictures.

Sighing, she tries to push away all of the thoughts of that date.  
She can't say it's not written in stone, because, hell, it probably is.  
Literally.

But it's a bunch of silly numbers, and it's still almost a year away. She has time.

Except at this very moment she wants nothing more than to be wrapped in the protective warmth of Jane's arms, to relax her tired body against the one that seems to fit against her so perfectly, as if they were made to align with one another. She releases a blissful sigh as she imagines the blanket of security that surrounds her body when Jane is near and the tension slowly drains from her tired limbs, even at the imagination of Jane's embrace. It's enough to tie her through.

Feeling a fresh wave of reassurance scamper through her body, she stands up from her crumpled position on the bottom step and releases her grip on the banister. Turning around, she slowly ascends the staircase and heads up to her bedroom on the second floor, all the while imaging Jane right next to her. It's the only thing that takes her wandering mind off of those horrible numbers called a date and the anxiousness for tomorrow evening's dinner.

Knowing she can't use the future as an escape whenever she needs it, she reluctantly enters her room and immediately collapses onto her bed, her body instantly relaxing against the mattress. And curling into a ball that night, Maura falls asleep thinking about a brown locked woman with a cocky smirk from 100 years in the future. Somehow, it's the only thought that'll lure her to the dreamland that night, a place where she can meet that cocky smirk whenever she wants.

* * *

That night Jane lies awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a distant, blank look in her glazed-over eyes. Something feels off, deep down in the pit of her stomach.

She tosses and turns half of the night away, sleep and dreams refusing to meet her in the darkness, leaving her hanging in the no man's land between wake and sleep, the place where sleep is visible yet just outside of reach of your fingertips. The place where the mind refuses to rest, keeping you up with every random thought possible, throwing out crazy situations to make you freak about nothing.

But no matter how often she turns and no matter how many leaping sheep she counts, Jane can't seem to connect with sleep.

Lying there, flat on her back, she feels like she's missing something.  
She feels as if there should be a weight in her arms, another body curled up against her and cuddled in her embrace.

Instead, she's left with a feeling of loneliness as she tosses in her bed sheets for the near millionth time that night.

* * *

"Oh, Maura Dorthea," Maura's mother says in a sweet voice as she walks into her bedroom to see her daughter standing near the window, using the glass as a sort of mirror to adjust the collar of her dress. She smiles and places her interlaced fingers under her chin as she admires her daughter's radiance. "You look quite beautiful tonight, Maura Dorthea," she assures her, walking over to her.

Maura rolls her eyes and makes a face of disgust that her mother can't see as she fools with the collar one last time. "Mother, is this dinner really necessary?" She smoothes the collar one more time and turns around to meet her mother's caring gaze.

"Well, of course it is," she confirms. "We wouldn't have you marrying a complete stranger, Maura Dorthea, now don't be silly."  
She brushes off a piece of nonexistent fuzz and pats her daughter on the shoulder, smiling gently.

Maura clenches her jaw at her mother's words.  
So apparently they are expecting this marriage to work out in the long run.  
If only she could tell them about Jane, though she knows she wouldn't end up with a happily ever after even then.  
She'd probably end up in a casket six feet below the earth's surface sooner than needed.

"Mother, what if it doesn't work out?"

"Don't be speaking such nonsense, Maura Dorthea," her mother threatens. "If you speak in the negative, it could very well end up that way, and none of us want that, now do we?" She stares at her daughter, square in the eyes. Maura shakes her head stiffly, afraid to disagree. "Of course not. We want things to work out this time, don't we, Maura Dorthea?" Maura nods in response, her tongue held tightly between her teeth. "Good, now see to it that it does. I want you to act like the woman that we've raised you to be, is that clear, Maura Dorthea?"

She stares at her daughter with a threatening look flaring in her eyes, silently warning her that things better go as planned.  
"Yes, Mother," Maura agrees softly, standing up straighter on the spot as she already feels her mother's eyes burning holes through her.

Don't get her wrong; Maura loves her mother.  
She's not all bad and evil; it's just sometimes she can be quite a frightening woman.

And Constance loves her daughter, she really does.  
She doesn't want to come across as a bad mother, so she tries to protect Maura with all that she has.  
She wants her daughter to lead a good life, and the only way she sees that happening is for her to marry a suitable young man.

"Good," she says with a sincere smile, running her hand along the side of her daughter's face and cupping her cheek in an affectionate motherly manner. "Now, Byron is a nice gentleman. He's your age, quite handsome, and a reasonable candidate for your hand in marriage, Maura Dorthea."

"Mother! A reasonable candidate? Really, Mother, you make it sound like I'm bidding on a horse," Maura responds in a sarcastic tone receiving a slight glare from her mother.

However, she chuckles softly and shakes her head. "Maura Dorthea, please, what I'm trying to say is that he's a charming young man. And your father and I both hope that you two will get along. He really is quite lovely, almost the male equivalent of your radiance."

"Mother, please," Maura says in an embarrassed voice as a light blush warms her cheeks.

Her mother smiles softly. "Oh, alright, he's not quite as dazzling as you."  
Maura laughs at her mother and adjusts the top of her dress nervously, wiggling around.

"Constance, Maura Dorthea, they're here!" the voice of Maura's father echoes up from the bottom of the staircase, signaling them to come down for dinner. The sound of the front door opening and closing is heard, followed by a range of voices.

"Well, come along then," her mother says and grabs hold of her daughter's hand, leading her out of the room and down the stairs.

"Richard, Constance, lovely seeing you both again!" a man with a jolly round face says in a rather loud voice, holding out his arms as he smiles at Maura's parents. His wife stands by his side, his children still hidden behind him, all of them still in the atrium near the front door. His wife is rather short and thin compared to his tall, round nature.

"Of course, always a pleasure, Paul," Maura's father says and shakes the man's hand, smiling brightly and welcomingly.  
After greeting the man and his wife, he turns to his daughter with a sincere smile on his face.  
"Maura Dorthea," he says pleasantly, politely asking his daughter to come forward and off of the steps.

Maura complies and descends the last couple of steps to stand by her father's side, standing up straight and tall, a few inches below her father. Her father lightly takes hold of Maura's elbow to guide her forward, slowly leading her from the steps and past the man, whose name is apparently Paul, and his wife. They stop and Maura brings her attention to the person standing in front of them.

"And Maura Dorthea, this is Byron," Maura's father says and lets go of her arm, allowing her room to greet the young man.

Maura stiffens as her eyes fall upon the creature in front of her. Creature? No, that's not a proper word.  
Her mother was correct about one thing; he is the male equivalent of Maura's beauty and radiance, assuming that to be possible.

She stares at him for what feels like an hour, though in real time it's no more than a few seconds. She runs her eyes quickly over his form, trying not to be completely obvious. But dear god, he is quite an eye catcher. He's dressed in a nice, crisp, white dress shirt under his fitted suit jacket and clean black trousers He's not very thin as a stick, nor as plump as a plum. He looks delicate with his dark brown maybe light black hair combed to the side.

Maura suddenly comes back to reality and feels the eyes of everyone else in the room on her, waiting for her to move.  
Feeling almost idiotic, she holds out her hand. Byron takes Maura's hand in his and bows to place a soft kiss to the top of her thin fingers.  
Nothing affectionate, it's only a polite greeting for such an occasion.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Ms. Isles," Byron says in a smooth voice, smiling sweetly. "How do you do?"

Maura ducks her head gently to try and hide her blush as Byron releases her hand and it falls back to her side. "I'm doing swell, today, Mr. Sluckey, thank you," she responds in a sweet, silky voice.

Maura smiles politely and glances away from him. To any other girl, he'd be such a sight and they'd have trouble keeping their eyes off of him. But this is Maura; she's not so much like all the other girls her age. Yes, she'll agree, he is handsome. Any woman would be lucky to have him, but Maura already has someone. And that someone's not just anyone, that someone's better, that someone's Jane; her Jane.

Her stomach twists into a tight knot at the thought of Jane. Is this wrong?  
Being here today, meeting this man whom she's supposed to wed, is it wrong?

It's not like she has a choice of whether she wants to be standing here at this very moment or not, but she can't shake the feeling deep down in the pit of her stomach. It's this nagging feeling that keeps saying she's betraying Jane. But she's not, is she? That'd only be if she were to fall in love with this man, and she knows for a fact that such a thing will never happen. It can never happen; she knows it won't.

Sure, he's handsome, but he doesn't even bring the butterflies in Maura's stomach to life.  
They merely lie there in a peaceful slumber, completely unaffected by his radiance, as if they're looking at nothing more than wallpaper.

"Come along then, we shan't keep the dinner waiting," Maura's mother peeps up, slightly startling her daughter.

* * *

The dinner has been running fairly smoothly for the most part. Everyone's been getting along, and the parents have been doing majority of the talking. It's more like a meet-and-greet session than anything else, though Maura knows what is expected of her in the following weeks. Assuming Byron is happy after meeting Maura, then the responsibility is up to her to move their little relationship forward, despite the painful feeling that seems to grow in her heart each time she thinks about the future.

"You look quite handsome tonight, Mr. Sluckey," Maura comments as she and Byron walk out onto the front porch after dinner.  
Technically, they've been shooed away for some "alone time" as her mother coined it.

"Byron, please, ," he says in response. "Though, thank you, Ms. Is—"

"Maura, please," she interrupts since she hates to be addressed like she's doing business. Though for some reason, she loves when Jane addresses her by her surname; there's something about the way Jane says it that sends chills scampering down her spine.

"Maura," Byron corrects himself.

They're both quiet for a couple minutes, standing a few feet apart and standing near the edge of the porch.  
They both hold onto the railing and look out over the yard.  
Maura, however, has her eyes set up at the sky.

"Byron?" she asks after the silence has gotten to her.

"Yes?" he replies nervously, turning his head to look at the beautiful woman next to him. He was never before aware of the fact that a girl could be so beautiful.

Maura sighs quietly and looks away from the night sky, turning her attention and thoughts away from that one face that's been infecting all of her thoughts for the past few weeks. "Byron, you are aware of the reason why we're here tonight, right?" she asks softly, trying her best not to sound too harsh. After all, he is a nice man.

Byron ducks his head. "Yes, I'm aware, Maura."

"Hmm," Maura responds gently. At least he knows why they're here. There've been times in the past where the men were completely unaware. Those times are torture; they're so clueless. "But we're so young," Maura adds on in a whisper.

"My parents say this is later than usual," Byron says quietly as he looks out at the yard. But he does agree; they are young.

Maura looks over at Byron and notices the look on his face. It's nearly identical to the look she's been trying to hide all night.  
"You don't want to be here anymore than I do, do you?" Maura asks in a gentle tone.

"Oh," Byron says in a sort of shocked voice, quickly turning his head back to the side to meet Maura's gaze.  
"Don't be silly, of course—"

"Byron, please, don't say what you think would please your parents," Maura interrupts him.  
"I can see it on your face, Byron."

"You can?" he asks shyly, quickly looking away to try and hide his face. His father might kill him if the look on his face has given away his utter dislike for this entire night. True, he doesn't want to be here.

"Yes, I can," Maura confirms quietly, still watching him look away.

Byron sighs heavily. "My father says this one better work out," he mutters under his breath, dislike evident in his tone as he speaks. "He's tired of me refusing the past few."

"Our parents sound like twins," Maura says with a chuckle, glad to know she's not the only one being pushed into this.  
Though now they have quite a dilemma on their hands, don't they?

Byron laughs softly.  
"So, Maura, you don't want to be here, and I don't want to be here, but our parents do. Now what do you suggest?"  
He turns his head and looks at Maura once again, smiling mischievously.

"Well," Maura begins quietly and glances up at the sky for the umpteenth time that evening. She'd much rather be in a different place altogether at this very moment, relaxing in the arms of a certain brown locked teen. Oh, how different she is compared to this handsome man standing directly next to her. She meets Byron's gaze before continuing her sentence. "I say you and I play along with our parents' wishes for now and see where this heads. At the very least, we'll wait until we're both ready for such a thing. How does that sound?"

Byron smiles sweetly, his elegance pouring from his lips and his eyes.  
"That sounds like a mighty fine plan, Ms. Isles."

* * *

Heading back inside and feeling slightly better about the whole ordeal, Byron smiles sincerely as he feels like they're all winning a little from this arrangement. He hasn't agreed to marriage yet, and he can tell for once that he's not disappointing the expecting girl by doing so. He can't help but wonder why Maura of all young women wouldn't want to wed yet, but he assumes he'll figure out the reason in the near future.

In the meantime, the Sluckey family is about ready to leave.  
Byron heads to the other room to catch their jackets and shawls, trying to be as polite as possible.

However, Maura is still on the porch waiting for Byron to get back with the over garments. She starts to turn as she hears a creak in the porch behind her. As she turns she comes face to face with…

"Margaret!" Maura yelps in surprise. She quickly smiles and tells her body to relax. There's nothing to be afraid of here, it's only Margaret, Byron's older sister. To be honest, they don't look to be incredibly related. And she always walks around with this look of determination on her face. Slightly stubborn, but for the most part she looks determined. Though maybe it's only her lost deep in thought.

"Thank you for coming over for dinner," Maura informs her in her friendliest voice, smiling politely though it goes unnoticed in the dark night. She can only make out the edges of Margaret's soft features from the stars and moon light casting onto the porch. "I thought Byron was bringing your jackets out to you—" Maura continues only to be cut off.

With a firm grip, Maura is shoved up against the railing behind her. Her breath hitches in her throat as she looks down at Margaret's arm pressed against her chest in a threatening manner, holding her up against the railing and keeping her still to assure that she doesn't squirm away.

Maura raises her eyes to meet Margaret's threatening gaze.  
She gasps quietly.

"Listen here, Maura. Maura," she laughs, "Can I call you Maura?" Margaret asks with a tiny snicker, her lips curling into a malevolent grin.  
Maura nods her head frantically in response, unable to find her voice.

"Good, good," Margaret says with a laugh as she loosens her grip only to shove Maura harder against the rails. "Now, Maura, listen, this isn't the first time Byron has been through this, and I know it's not your first time through this tricky process either. He's been hurt in the past, and being an older sister, I don't like to see my little brother hurt, you hear? You hurt him, you hurt me, are we clear?"

Maura swallows deeply and nods her head stiffly.

"Good." Margaret's malevolent grin turns into a slightly cordial smile. "I know Byron, and I know for a fact that he won't act if you hurt him. He'll slowly heal and get over it. But I'm not like him. If you hurt him, I won't hesitate to act, you understand, Maura?"

Maura stares back into Margaret's eyes, clearly seeing the flame flare in warning. Swallowing deeply once again, she nods.

"I understand," she confirms quietly, her voice cracking as a whisper.

Margaret laughs and eases her grip against Maura, allowing the poor honey blonde teen to collapse against the railing in shock. Deciding to end this on a good note, Margaret smiles sincerely and reaches forward with both hands to smooth out the newly found wrinkles in Maura's dress. She smoothes down the creases and adjusts the collar so she looks as good as new.

"Good, that's good," she says as she tugs at Maura's dress to refit it properly.  
"Now, Maura, don't you forget about our little talk, okay?" Margaret asks with a secretive grin as she walks back into the house without hearing an answer.

Maura's breathing unhitches from her throat as she regains the ability to breathe once more and she shakes her head as she follows Margaret's retreating form off the porch. If Maura had any knowledge of movies in the future, she'd feel like she just had an encounter with the Godfather. But being from the early twentieth century, she stands there utterly dumbfounded and more threatened then she has in her entire 17 years of life.

Swallowing deeply and trying to wrap her mind around her little talk with Margaret as she slowly walks into the house, she wants nothing more than to be in Jane's arms at this very moment.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: You Do Know That Love Involves Much, Much More than Kissing... **

"Oh, yes, it was indeed quite awful, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura says quietly as she looks up at Jane from her resting position, thinking back to the night almost a week ago when she had that impromptu talk with Margaret, Byron's overly protective older sister.

She wasn't entirely frightened, only more of shaken up by the threat.  
Margaret had practically flat out warned her that if she doesn't marry her brother, then she could basically say good-bye to life.

Maura shivers lightly despite the warm breeze that kisses her skin in the dwindling days of spring as summer is quickly approaching. It's a lovely day. The sky is clear, and the sun is high in the sky, casting its golden light upon all of the earth below. It's one of those lazy days where everything seems to be moving in slow motion because nothing really matters.

And Maura Isles and Jane Rizzoli are spending the day to its advantage, just enjoying being in each other's presence.  
They don't have any places they need to be nor do they have any tasks to attend to.  
They merely have the entire day to relax in each other's company.

"I can only imagine," Jane says quietly as she looks down at Maura, meeting her eyes only to smile softly.  
They're hidden in a field that's long overdue for a good trimming, leaving the grass tall and excellent to hide in. It's the perfect place for their little meetings that the rest of the world wouldn't quite understand at this time.

Jane is sitting with her legs outstretched in front of her, and Maura is lying perpendicular to her, reclined on the ground and resting her head upon Jane's lap. The tall grass surrounds them both as they catch up on what has happened over the past few days. Ever since Maura had run off that night, Jane has been giving her, her needed space and distance to cope with that awful piece of knowledge she learned at the Rizzoli house.

But by the fourth night of falling asleep with the feeling of something missing in her arms at night, Jane finally cracked. She couldn't function properly with the constant question on her mind of whether or not Maura is okay or if she freaked out from seeing that date. Falling asleep at night with a wandering mind, Jane could only imagine the worse. She kept seeing images flash through her mind of a depressed, confused Maura doing some crazy act. Sometimes her mind would go as far as to suggest suicide.

And that was the final straw.  
She couldn't sit around and wait with her over imaginative mind any longer.

So she went to the now very familiar part of the park with the post in the ground, gripped her fingers around the handle in their proper position and jiggled it to travel back 100 years in the past. How it works is still a strange mystery to her and Maura both. They're merely thankful that it does.

"I've missed you, Jane," Maura says in a soft whisper.  
She looks up at Jane with a crooked smile, blinking to brush away the tears before they fall from her dampening eyes.  
Sometimes she feels so weak, letting her emotions get to her like this.

Jane smiles and runs her fingers through Maura's loose hair, combing through the long honey blonde locks. "It's only been five days," Jane replies, surprised to hear her voice crack as she realizes that the tears in Maura's eyes are mirrored in her own.

Maura sighs and rolls slightly onto her side so she can get a better view up at Jane and snuggle a little bit closer. "I know," she says quietly, "but it feels longer than that." She runs a hasty hand across her eyes.

"But I'm here now," Jane reassures her and moves her hand from running through Maura's hair to wipe at the shiny rivers that begin to roll from Maura's eyes, falling silently from the corners of her eyes. Maura smiles up at Jane, a closed smile, but it's a smile all the same. "I missed you, too," she adds on softly and leans down to press her lips against Maura's forehead.

"You did?" Maura asks sheepishly, opening her eyes as she feels Jane pull away from her forehead.  
She reaches up with her right hand and runs her index finger along the side of Jane's face.

Jane smiles and returns her fingers to running through Maura's hair. "Of course I did," she clarifies.  
"I always miss you," Jane says in a soft tone, realizing that it's true.

"Always?" Maura question and cups Jane's cheek in her hand.  
Jane nudges into it lightly and nods as a response. "Always, meaning every time we're apart."

Maura smiles to herself, her heart swelling at Jane's words.  
She's never had someone care about her so much in her entire life.  
And now somebody does.

"You really miss me that often, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks curiously, double-checking Jane's feelings.  
Jane smiles at Maura's question, loving the way Maura still insists on calling her by her surname every now and then.

"I do," Jane responds with a grin.  
To seal her feelings, she leans down and locks her lips to Maura's in a soft kiss, nothing major.  
And as Jane pulls away, she can't control the smile that appears on her face and seems to lock into place.

_She loves me_, the thought runs through Maura's head a couple times until it registers with the rest of her body. Her heart begins to thump a little harder as she looks up into Jane's eyes and she's never felt more loved in her entire life while she stares at the brown locked woman above her.

She's been unable to marry for the past couple years because she's refused every offer, claiming she's waiting for love.  
And now that she's found it, she can't help but wonder if it's a mistake.  
Not only is her love a girl, she's… _from the future_, Maura finishes in her thoughts.  
Her face falls slightly, the smile washing away from her lips.

"What is it?" Jane asks quietly, speaking as if they're in a library, as if she speaks too loudly then she may disrupt the peace.  
She frowns as she notices the troubled look enter Maura's eyes.

But instead of responding with a distressed thought, Maura's smile returns in a full grin.  
"Nothing," she reassures Jane by smiling even brighter. "Sometimes it takes me a few seconds to wrap my mind around the fact that you're from the _future_," she finishes in a very, very soft voice, no louder than the squeak of a mouse.

"Oh, I see," Jane says with a small laugh. "And is that a problem?"

"Of course not," Maura replies with a smile. She grins and moves her hand from Jane's cheek to the back of her head, slowly pulling her back down so their lips can meet in yet another light kiss.

It's a kiss of the softest kind, with their mouths still closed and only the skin of their lips meeting together like the pieces of a child's jigsaw puzzle, putting two and two together to form one. Jane leans over Maura, hunching over for a better position as she smiles into the kiss. She never knew she could get so much satisfaction from such little action, but she can. At least, she can with Maura.

Nothing between them ever has to be too extreme or aggressive, or at least so far, that is.  
For now little, soft kisses are more than enough to drive them wild and longing for more until their next meeting.

"Jane," the name rolls off of Maura's tongue in a whisper, mixing among the late spring breeze as they pull apart once more. Jane makes eye contact to show she's listening, so Maura continues on without a verbal response. "I love you," she adds on softly, smiling as the words leave her lips, sounding more right out loud than in her head.

Jane smiles and tucks a strand of Maura's hair behind her ear.  
"I love you, too, Ms. Isles," she replies in a humorous tone, placing a chaste kiss to the tip of Maura's nose as she cradles the honey blonde woman's head in her lap. Still smiling like a little kid who just climbed to the top of the jungle gym for the first time, Jane reaches down and takes hold of Maura's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I… I wish we could be together forever," Jane whispers in a cracking voice, hoping that for once, just this time, maybe wishful thinking will turn out true.

But wishful thinking rarely does.

"Forever is a very long time, Jane," Maura says quietly, though she fancies the thought.  
"Though, whose forever are you referring to?" she asks curiously, quirking her head slightly to the side.

Jane thinks about it for a minute or so before she responds with a wicked grin.  
"Mine," she says simply and confidently.

"Yours?" Maura sits up and twists her body to look at Jane, "Why yours, Ms. Rizzoli?"

Jane smiles and squeezes her grip on Maura's hand a little tighter as she smiles a toothy grin at the honey blonde next to her.  
"Because my forever is probably 100 years longer than yours."

Maura smirks at her reasoning.  
It's not that Jane's forever is 100 years longer; it merely begins 100 years in the future.  
"Is that so, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks with a sly grin.

Jane grins and scoots a bit closer to Maura, pulling the woman into her lap as she brings their lips together for a little bit of a rougher kiss than the previous. "You don't know how much I'd give for you to come and live in my forever," Jane whispers against Maura's lips, trying to hold back her emotions as she feels Maura smile against her words.

"Is that an offer?"

"It's more than an offer," Jane replies as she places a kiss to Maura's cheek, wishing she could wrap her up and take her home with her today, but Maura stiffens momentarily. "It's a request and an offer," Jane says and adds on in a softer voice, "but not until you're ready."

"Until I'm ready?" she questions as a shiver runs through her body. She had never even thought of going off to Jane's time. She has a life here, in the past, with her family. She couldn't possibly up and leave with a simple goodbye and say, "I'm off to the future!" They wouldn't understand. No one would. "But what about my family?" Maura asks as she pulls her head away from Jane's wandering lips.

"What about them?"

"I can't just leave them, Ms. Rizzoli. They need me—"

"Maura, what would you be doing if you went off and got married? You'd be leaving them behind then, wouldn't you? It's no different than that," Jane claims.

"But," Maura begins and looks down at the ground, allowing her eyes to go unfocused as she compares the two. "That's different. Marriage and running off to the future are two very different things."

Jane laughs and wraps her arms around Maura's lower waist, bringing her to lean against her body.  
"Very different," she repeats Maura's words and playfully buries her nose in Maura's hair, sniffing her scent off of her neck. She smiles as the scent sends tickling sensations through her nose. "One involves some guy who's probably a complete shrew, while the other involves some deliciously beautiful girl with dazzling curly, brown locks," Jane continues on and places a trail of kiss along the ridge of Maura's ear, making her shiver and giggle under her touch.

"Jane!" Maura squeals, completely forgetting her dilemma of future possibilities.

"Oh, exactly correct," Jane whispers into her ear, smiling as she plays with her. "That's who that girl with the dazzling curly, brown locks is in the one option, isn't it?" she asks with a laugh, receiving an awarding giggle from her love.

Perhaps Maura is slightly frightened by the prospect of running off and escaping into the future, despite the fact that she'd be given the opportunity to live with Jane. But at this point in time, Jane won't push her into doing anything she doesn't wish to do. Though she hopes in the long run, they'll end up together, no matter which time period they'll have to live in.

But luckily, the idea is now out in the open.

* * *

"So, Mr. Byron," Maura begins in a light tone, trying to speak to this boy walking next to them as if they're friends. He is a nice boy, and she wouldn't want to do any harm to him whatsoever. Especially after her little talk with his sister, but she doesn't see how she'll be able to live without hurting Byron in the future. She doesn't want to marry him. To her, it's the near equivalent of being sold into slavery.

"Yes?" he responds in a low voice, turning his head to show that Maura has his undivided attention.  
They're out walking around the town in what their parents think will be a romantic meeting, though it's much the contrary.  
These two would much rather discuss the tortures of marriage versus the prospect of their own.

"Now tell me," Maura begins softly, walking with her hands behind her back. She wouldn't want their hands to accidentally bump.  
"Why would a sweet, handsome gentleman such as yourself not want to marry?"  
Maura glances over just in time to see his cheeks heat up a lovely shade of rose.

If his mother hadn't scorned him for shrugging as a kid, he would shrug now instead of speak, but he opens his mouth.

"I don't want to feel tied down, Ms. Isles," he begins quietly, as if speaking to himself instead of the woman next to him. "I don't want to be a traditional groom and marry some boring woman and be forced to give her three children. That's not the kind of life I want, Ms. Isles."

Maura turns her head and looks over at him only to see his eyes sparkling at the thought of what he'd really like to do with his life. He's smiling sweetly and it seems he doesn't want to hold back any longer on his life plans. "And what kind of life do you want?" Maura asks softly.

Byron visibly hesitates for a second and he turns his head to look at where he's walking. His face falls slightly as he begins to tell his dreams in a tiny voice, sounding almost ashamed of his thoughts. "Ms. Isles, I don't want to live in a house, have children, and provide dinner, and work for the rest of my life. I want to travel the world! I want to take a ship across that ocean to marvelous Europe the papers are always talking about! I want to go to different countries and meet people who speak entirely different languages than I do. I want to see all of the different cultures of the world, and see how they deal with occasions such as marriage."

By the end of his little speech, his voice is full of desire and emotion and it's obvious that marriage is not the main task on the top of his to-do list. Maura smiles at how honest he's being. "And Mr. Sluckey, I don't want to hold you back," she replies honestly.

* * *

"Jane, you're here!" Maura nearly squeals as she runs across the yard to the brown locked woman standing with her hand on the water pump. She smiles as she approaches her and takes hold of Jane's hand, pulling her along with her and out of the yard to a hidden sanctuary amongst the trees.

Jane can't help but grin as she allows Maura to pull her into the dense woods at the edge of the Isles residence.  
They've only been apart for four days this time and already it feels like it's been a month.  
And Maura's eagerness only shines even more when Jane realizes she completely forgot to grab her a change of clothes.  
But I suppose Jane's 21st century clothes don't really matter when they're hidden from the rest of the early 20th century world.

They reach a small alcove amongst the trees and Maura pauses in mid-step and turns around to face Jane. She smiles sweetly and refuses to let go of Jane's hand. "I missed you," she says simply.

Jane takes a couple steps to close the distance between them and she pulls her hand out of Maura's so she can cup her face in her hands. "You always miss me, don't you?" she asks as she brings her lips to Maura's in a much-desired kiss.

The kiss deepens, much to Jane's surprise, and Maura even parts her lips and allows Jane entrance.  
It's not the first time, but it's a very rare occasion that their kisses ever go any further than lips on lips.  
But today, it's evident that Maura really did miss Jane.

"What's gotten into you?" Jane asks playfully as they break apart.

Maura blushes like mad and bows her head in slight shame. "I… I'm sorry, Ms. Rizzoli, I didn't mean to be so aggress—"

Jane chuckles and places another kiss to Maura's lips.  
"Don't apologize," she says after pulling away almost an inch.  
"I kind of," she kisses Maura's cheek, "like it."

Maura laughs softly and for once brings her lips to Jane's instead of vice versa.  
"You like it, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks in a deeper, more seductive voice as she brings Jane down to sit on the ground next to her. Her legs were getting a bit weak in the knees, after all.

"Mmhmm," Jane mumbles briefly before she attaches her lips to Maura's in a luscious kiss, not afraid of being too aggressive as she feels Maura putting in just as much effort. They're needy kisses, begging to go deeper and deeper though they can't seem to reach any further than the surface.

Becoming a bit tired of only lips, Jane moves away and leaves a trail of soft kisses from the honey blonde's mouth, across her cheek, and down to her neck where she latches her lips for a lengthy stay, sucking and nipping at the soft, virgin skin beneath her teeth. She devours Maura, loving the fact that no one has ever received the chance to do such happenings to this pure creature. She's the first, and she prays she's the last.

Maura shivers beneath Jane's starving licks and closes her eyes as she allows her entire body to shudder and fall limp in her savior's arms. Her mouth hangs open as Jane attacks her neck with skilled lips, seeming like she's done this before, though Maura couldn't care less right now. She's never felt anything so satisfying in her entire life.

Jane smiles against Maura's skin, realizing that she'll probably leave a mark on this girl's skin that is clearer than a blank canvas.  
Maura, however, is completely unsure of what to do at this point in time other than enjoy it while she allows Jane to continue with her work.

"Jane," Maura sighs breathlessly as she grips onto the brown locked girl's shoulders, digging in her fingernails through the cotton material of Jane's tee shirt. Jane bites a little harder at the skin of her neck, and Maura can't help the memory that runs through her mind from when she was a child and the other kids were discussing some ridiculous story about a vampire. She shudders under Jane's teeth.

After countless minutes have passed, Jane pulls away and smiles at Maura, loving the way that she's made Maura's eyelids droop over her lust filled eyes. Minutes before, Maura wanted nothing more than innocent little kisses. Now it's evident she wants, or rather she needs, more.

"You know," Jane begins quietly as she moves to her knees and crawls, upright, to Maura, smiling slyly.  
"You're not a statue," she says and presses her lips against Maura's in a rough kiss, taking advantage of Maura's limpness to gently push her backwards until she's lying on the grassy floor of this hidden sanctuary amongst the trees and brush. Supporting herself inches above Maura's reclined body, she continues in a gentle voice, "You can move around, too."

Maura giggles slightly at the comparison and laces her fingers behind Jane's neck, smiling sweetly and seeming a little more confident, though the blush scattered across her cheeks proves otherwise. Tugging lightly, she pulls Jane's head down for a bruising kiss.

As they break apart, Jane sits back up straight, leaning back on her haunches as she straddles Maura. Not wanting to waste a precious minute of their time together, she hastily yanks her tee shirt up and over her head and discards it a few feet away, not caring where it lands.

She turns her attention back to Maura and her eyes fall on her face just in time to see the confusion wash over her.  
"Jane, w-what are you doing?" Maura asks as Jane leans back down, her upper torso completely naked, except for a black bra. Her cheeks heat up more than they ever have in the past, turning a shade of dark scarlet.

"Maura," Jane says softly, trying not to laugh or sound annoyed. "I love you, you know that, right?" she asks and undoes the top button of Maura's dress, sliding it through its hole with her nimble fingers.

"Of course," Maura says and furrows her brow at Jane's fingers.  
"But what in heavens does that have to do with you unbuttoning my clothing?" she asks in an anxious voice and quickly grabs onto Jane's fingers and stills them in the middle of unbuttoning the second button.

She looks up into Jane's eyes for an answer, confused as to what any of this means.

Jane sighs and bows her head.  
"Maura?" she asks quietly and locks their eyes, letting go of the button in between her fingers.  
"You do know that love involves much, much more than kissing… right?"

Maura blushes once again, but she nods in response.  
She knows what happens when two people love each other.  
Her mother had talked to her a year or so ago, lecturing her despite the awkwardness of the situation.  
And she's heard her fair-share of details from other girls at school.  
She's not a stranger to the topic, though she's never personally had sex before.  
"But Jane, how would we even do… _that_?" she asks in an embarrassed tone, heating up and turning the shade of a tomato.

Jane blushes lightly, too, and smiles softly as she leans back down to place a butterfly kiss to Maura's lips. "Don't you even worry about that," she says quietly. "I'm not even concerned about that today. That can wait until we're both ready, alright?" Maura nods and bites her lip anxiously. "As for right now," Jane continues with a smile. "Right now, I just want to _see_ you," she explains and rubs the tip of her nose against Maura's. "So is this okay?" she asks as she sits back up on her knees and motions toward Maura's dress.

Maura nods and tries not to blush yet again, but she can't control it.  
Her cheeks darken as she allows Jane to unbutton her top and reveal her upper body for another's eyes.

As Jane slides the bottom button through its hole, Maura squirms around and helps to remove her top off of her arms.

Turning her full attention back to the honey blonde woman below her, Jane moves her eyes over Maura's bare torso and an uncontrollable smile falls upon her lips.

"What?" Maura asks nervously after she sees Jane smile in a way she's never seen her smile before.

Jane snaps out of her thoughts and moves one of her hands to cup Maura's cheek, running her thumb lightly against her soft skin.

"You… you're beautiful," Jane says in near awe, smiling sincerely.  
To be honest, she feels like she's been granted permission to see the unbelievable.

Maura can only smile as she allows her eyes to run across Jane's upper body, blushing as she sees how toned her muscles are compared to her own flat stomach. But she, too, is the most beautiful person she's ever seen. Though Jane is the only girl she's ever seen like this besides family.

Feeling a surge of excitement scamper through her body at the prospect of feeling that skin right in front of her, her smile turns into a smirk as she looks up at Jane with innocent eyes.

Maura links her index fingers through the front belt-loops of Jane's jeans and tugs forward lightly.  
"What?" Jane asks with a smile as she looks down at Maura's fingers.

Pulling Jane down on top of her and crashing their lips together in a heated kiss, Maura says with a mischievous smirk, "Come here, Ms. Rizzoli…"

* * *

**Sorry about not updating so frequently anymore. Ever since I got out for summer break work has been kicking my butt. I will try to update every Friday or Saturday since that is like the only free time I have. Please stay with me because I have a lot more to do with this story. Thank you.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry about the late update. Saturday arrived before I knew it. But, don't be sad the update is here! Enjoy! Just a little warning: This chapter might be leaning a little more toward an ****_M_**** rating.**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Don't Hope. Know. **

"Come here, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura's words ring in Jane's ears, the seductive tone vibrating against her ear drums and sending a surprising wave of pleasure shooting down her spine and straight to her lower regions. She shivers into the kiss as Maura's lips crash against her own in a force that Maura has never once used with her.

It's new side of her.  
It's a dominant, fierce side with a goal in mind.

And Jane likes it.

She smiles into the kiss, letting Maura lead her through the way she wants. Being who she is and only ever being with a couple guys in the past, Jane has never been handled like this, but knowing the fact that it's Maura, she lets down her guard and practically gives herself up for that honey blonde woman.

Maura's soft lips meet Jane's in a fury of heated passion, falling against one another to combine in perfect harmony. Jane has heard the saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and she's getting her proof at this very moment as to how. She's never had an encounter like this with Maura in the past. They've always been sweet little meetings with maybe a soft peck of the lips and nothing more than fumbling hands and blushing cheeks.

But this… it's like some inner core was opened up for the first time inside of Maura, taking her from shy gentle woman to seductive lover in a matter of seconds.

Jane releases a gentle moan from the depths of her throat as she feels Maura's hands moving across her lower back.

Maura runs her fingertips across the soft, bare skin of Jane's back, just above the ridge of her jeans. Rising so only the tips of her nails graze over the skin, she traces a line up Jane's spine, following her curves with a curious, wandering index finger.

And Jane can't help but shiver under the touch, the nearly nonexistent scratches sending chills throughout her body as her mind registers that this is Maura who is doing this to her. Her insides begin to quiver under the sensations that Maura is sending on a rampage through her body and she gives her all into the kiss since that's all she can do for now.

It's all she planned on doing today anyways.  
Nothing more than wandering eyes and hands and maybe a few innocent little kisses along the way.  
But she never expected Maura to be so… needy and desirable.

She's learned to love the shy, quiet Maura and respect her for who she is. She never needed to see her dressed up, or down, to fall in love. Meeting her and interacting with her were always more than enough to make her fall harder than she ever had in the past. But now she wants Maura in ways she didn't even know possible.

Reveling in the short, breathy moans of her name falling from Maura's lips, Jane moves from her mouth and begins leaving a trail of soft kisses across the honey blonde teen's cheeks, pressing her lips against Maura's skin in the same manner as placing a seal on an envelope as if she's sealing their love off from the rest of the world.

"Jane," Maura sighs breathlessly, running the short tips of her fingernails across the bare of Jane's back, tickling her skin absentmindedly. She closes her eyes under the butterfly kisses and Jane takes the advantage to place a kiss to the lid of each eye. Maura shudders and smiles as she feels a strand of brown locks tickle the bare skin of her shoulder.

With her eyes still sealed shut from the light kisses, she can still feel Jane moving around her.  
She bites her lip to stifle a giggle as she feels Jane's face rubbing against the side of her own. The softy contact of their faces sends shivers dancing down her spine, making her body shudder involuntarily as their jaw lines rub against one another.

"I love you," Jane whispers in a ragged voice against the opening of Maura's ear, her lips brushing against Maura's outer ear. She smiles after feeling Maura shiver underneath her, and she pokes out her tongue to lick across the ridge of her ear.

Maura breathes out in the form of a giggle and squirms beneath the brown locked teen, digging her nails into the bare skin of the back she's holding onto as she tightens her grip around Jane's sides as if to keep herself sane and tied to the earth.

"Jane," is all Maura replies in another breathless voice.

Jane laughs softly as she leans the side of her head to rest against Maura's, pausing for a few seconds.

And she nearly jumps as she feels a kiss pressed to the skin of her neck by a pair of cold lips, meeting the thin tissue with a spark that scampers straight down to her toes and causes her to toe the leafy floor of this luscious green haven with her tennis shoes that are still loosely laced to her feet.

A tattered breath escapes her lips and she closes her eyes as the lips momentarily draw back only to reattach with a greater force, a greater desire.

The cold temperature of the soft lips sends her chills like walking out into the late autumn air to be kissed by a bitter wind.  
The little hairs across her entire body stand on end, goosebumps rising across the whole surface of her skin and gracing her skin with the look of just stepping out of a cold shower.

The icy lips are trembling, as if nervous, while they begin to travel around the side of Jane's neck.  
They wander across the skin with curiosity, yet also with the utmost caution.

They tread lightly, parting ever so slightly for an occasional curious lick, as if testing it out before devouring the item entirely.

Jane can't help but tremble as the lips carry on their tentative journey across her neck, discovering soft spots that she herself wasn't even aware existed. She tries to stay still as Maura continues her work, but she can't escape the trembles that follow the collisions of those frigid lips against her warm skin.

The world seems to move in slow motion around the two as they lie on the floor of the natural sanctuary dug out amongst the trees, both of them experiencing emotions they never knew they were capable of feeling.

The time ticks by, seconds smearing into minutes as Maura cautiously nips at the skin of Jane's neck in a sincere love bite.

Jane reacts by tilting her head at just the right angle to place a kiss in Maura's hair, bringing the honey blonde teen straight out of her own little realm and back into reality.

She pulls away almost immediately and turns her head to the side, trying to hide her blush and embarrassment from Jane. She'd never done anything so… outside of her comfort zone before. And this was way beyond her comfort zone. She'd only done what Jane had done minutes before.

She couldn't seem to help it, though. She was so tempted that her heart seemed to take control, leaving her brain and logic hanging there helplessly as her body took up a mind of its own.

"Wow," Jane breathes out in response, rearranging herself so she can look straight at Maura.  
She's smiling softly, almost smirking as she waits for Maura to look at her, but the honey blonde teen keeps her head turned away in her own slight embarrassment.

"Maura," the brown locked teen whispers quietly with a short chuckle.  
She lifts her one arm and snakes her fingertips under the side of Maura's cheek and pushes slightly until Maura is looking fully at her.  
She averts her eyes from looking at Jane and tries to ignore the thumb that absentmindedly caresses her cheek. "You're blushing," Jane observes softly, allowing her eyes to run across Maura's reddening features.

Maura sucks in her bottom lip and musters up enough courage to raise her eyes the few inches to meet those chocolate brown eyes of Jane's. She can't stop the smile that pulls at the corners of her mouth from the cute little concerned look that Jane is giving her.

"I," she begins in a faltering voice as she breathes in raggedly, "I've never done anything like that…"

True, even kissing is new for Maura.  
And she's never once been aggressive, but right now it's like some part of her is finally surfacing.

Jane smiles softly as Maura averts her eyes once again, the blush scattered across her cheeks merely darkening by the second.  
The brown locked teen holds back a laugh and runs the pad of her thumb across Maura's one cheek she has cupped in her palm, caressing the skin that, in a way, she wishes no one else could ever be given the privilege to touch.

"Maura," Jane whispers in order to get the honey blonde's attention, bringing her eyes to meet her own once again.

"Yes?" Maura asks quietly.

Jane laughs softly to herself as she looks at Maura's face of innocence.  
She looks like she's prepared to be yelled at or something along those lines.  
"I think that maybe," Jane says while still caressing Maura's cheek, "just maybe, you should try doing things like _that_ a little more often."

Maura stares back at Jane with a blank look.  
"Excuse me?"

Jane chuckles at Maura's reaction and plants a soft kiss to her nose, smiling at her confusion and innocence. "You heard me, Maur," Jane replies with a slight laugh as she pulls away.  
Loving the look on Maura's face, she leans back and rises to kneel on her haunches once again, straddling Maura beneath her.

Maura is still wrapping her mind around Jane's words.  
She's never been so far out of her comfort zone, and to be completely honest she's more than a little scared to go any further.

While Maura is busy with her thoughts, Jane takes the time to sit back and admire the woman below her.  
She finds herself smiling without her knowing.

Smiling uncontrollably, she traces a finger down the front of Maura's torso, trailing two fingers from her chest to her stomach and only stopping as she reaches the top of Maura's waist.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispers in a barely audible tone.

"What?" Maura asks for her to repeat, unsure if she heard her correctly.

Jane merely smirks down at the honey blonde teen and traces her steps back up her stomach and chest, trailing her finger along the same path until she reaches the tip of Maura's chin where she takes a detour to cup her cheek in her hand.

"I said, you're beautiful," Jane repeats her previous words with a smile.  
And Maura explicably blushes in response, batting her eyelashes bashfully.

Maura smiles despite her blush and says quietly, "I love you, Jane."

Smirking, Jane leans forward once more to plant a luscious kiss to Maura's lonely lips, filling in the void the best way she can.  
As she pulls away she replies in a humorous tone, "I know."

Maura giggles and relaxes her body on the twigs, leaves, and grass beneath her form and turns her head to the side as Jane returns to her previous kneeling position. She looks to their left and her eyes fall on Jane's discarded shirt, lying in a careless pile at the base of a tree too old for its time.

Her eyes immediately attract to Jane's bright red t-shirt. It's so different and the color even seems brighter than anything she's ever seen before.

She chuckles to herself and squirms beneath Jane's legs, managing to wiggle her way out.  
Jane remains kneeling in the same position and she watches with bewilderment as she follows Maura with her eyes. She watches her stand up and walk a few feet away. Maura pauses and bends over to pick up Jane's discarded t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" Jane asks curiously while Maura walks back over with the t-shirt in hand and plops down on the ground next to Jane.

"Why do you wear such abnormal shirts, Ms. Rizzoli?" Maura asks, totally disregarding Jane's previous question.

Jane shrugs but can't help a smile as she watches Maura inspect the shirt in her hand, looking them over like fine silk.  
"They're only abnormal to you," she responds truthfully and with a giggle.

"Hmm." Maura giggles as she holds it up above her head.

_I wonder_, Maura thinks to herself with a twinkle glistening in her eyes as an idea pops to mind.  
Smirking smugly and sending Jane a mischievous look, she brings the shirt back down, pulling it down over her head and sticking her arms up to slide them through the proper holes.

Smiling as a memory comes to mind; she adjusts the cotton material and pulls at it slightly, already feeling the weight of the shirt on top of her. It's much different than her usual thin dress material.

"There," Maura says almost triumphantly. She brushes her hair out of the collar of the shirt to let it rest freely against her shoulders.  
She looks over at Jane and smiles a toothy grin. "Well?" Maura asks expectantly as she stands up from the ground and extends her arms to the side in a modeling manner. "How do I look, Jane?"

Jane snorts as Maura twirls around once.

"Hmm?" Maura asks again. She twirls on her toes once more and giggles with each spin.

"You look," Jane begins and laughs softly, "ridiculous. Maybe you should stick to your dresses." Jane teases.

Maura scoffs at Jane and places her hands on her hips in a pissed off manner, resembling a rather ticked mother who's about ready to punish an inconsiderate child, but as she juts out her bottom lip in a faint pout that essence seems to fall from her immediately. Instead she looks like a pouting child about ready to break down in tears until they get what they want.

"May I remind you, _Ms. Rizzoli_, that you wear these types of shirts everyday?"

"Well in that case," Jane begins in playful voice, smirking as she gets up onto her knees. She walks on her knees across the floor of the little haven, old leaves crunching underneath her jean-clad knees. Maura merely remains standing in her place with her hands secured to her hips with that little pout gracing her features, watching with curiosity as Jane almost crawls right up to her. "In that case," Jane says again as she kneels directly in front of Maura, her head level with Maura's hips as she tilts her head to look up at the honey blonde teen. "Then you look… adorable," Jane finishes with her usual smirk.

"Adorable?"

"Extremely cute and lovable," Jane corrects herself with a tiny laugh.

Maura giggles as she looks down to meet Jane's eyes. "Is that so, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks playfully.

"Yes, it is," she confirms with another laugh.  
"And what is it with you calling me Ms. Rizzoli? Huh?"  
Jane smiles up at Maura and brings her hands up to Maura's hips.

Immediately, Maura places her hands over top of Jane's, wrapping their fingers into intricate little locks absentmindedly as she gets lost in Jane's gaze, but she heard the question. She blushes lightly. "I don't know, it has a different… feel to it," Maura attempts to explain through stumbling words.

Jane laughs as she tightens her grip around Maura's hands. "It makes you feel like we're older, doesn't it?" she asks.

"Yes," Maura confesses and releases a light sigh. "If we were older then maybe we wouldn't be so tightly bound to our homes. Maybe then we could be… together," Maura finishes in a whisper, trying not to break the possibility of the future by speaking too loudly.

"But we are together, Maur," Jane says quietly as she releases Maura's hands to wrap her arms lightly around Maura's lower back.  
Maura's arms fall to her sides in defeat.

Maura connects her eyes with Jane's and responds honestly, "Not in the way I want us to be."

Jane takes in a deep breath and releases it as a solemn sigh. She closes her eyes and places her head against Maura's lower stomach, the only spot she is able to lean against as she embraces Maura lightly from her kneeling position. She hugs her tightly, breathing in a whiff of Maura's scent and wishing she could keep it locked into her memory forever. "But we will be someday," Jane promises Maura.

She smiles confidently to herself and prays that for once her words are the truth.

Maura places her hands on Jane's shoulders. "I hope so," she says softly.

"Don't hope. Know."

Maura laughs and shakes her head at Jane's words, but she complies anyways.  
"We will be together like that someday, Jane, I know it," Maura corrects herself.

Jane smiles and opens her eyes to meet Maura's. "Better," she confirms.  
And giving Maura one last squeeze of promise, Jane takes her arms away from Maura's lower back and replaces them with her hands at the front hem of the shirt that Maura is wearing. She smirks up at Maura and snakes one hand up underneath the front of the t-shirts and presses her palm flat against the skin of Maura's stomach.

"Jane," Maura whines and goes to shoo Jane's hand away when Jane takes the upper hand and gently tackles Maura to the ground while making sure not to hurt her in any form whatsoever. She'd hate to see her get a single scratch on her beautiful body all because of Jane. "Jane!" Maura squeals.

"Oh, so now you call me Jane," Jane says with a laugh as she hovers over her love.  
She leans down and plants a quick, chaste kiss to Maura's unsuspecting lips.

Maura pouts as Jane pulls away and she tugs gently on one of her strands of brown hair.

Jane smirks and swats her hand away, throwing the hanging strand back over her shoulder and out of reach. "Hey, no tugging the locks," Jane threatens playfully. "Did you want something besides my attention?" Jane raises her eyebrows in question, completely playing stupid for the fun of it.

"Mmhmm," Maura replies with a blush scattering across her cheeks. She smiles sweetly.

"And what exactly do you want?" Jane asks in a husky voice and bows her head to place a little kiss to the tip of Maura's nose. "Is that it?" she asks after pulling away.

"Close, but not quite," Maura specifies and giggles as she wraps her arms around the back of Jane's neck.

"Oh, really?" Jane asks and leans down again. She places a line of kisses against Maura's cheeks to devour that scattered blush.  
"Mm, I could've sworn that's exactly what you wanted," she says in a confident, yet disappointed, tone.

Maura giggles breathlessly and squirms under Jane's touch. She wants the shirt off.  
"Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane," Maura nearly sings like a child humming a silly tune.

Jane laughs and secures a kiss to Maura's temple. "Yes, Maur?" she asks softly.

"Do you know what I want?" Maura asks as Jane leaves a trail of kisses along her hairline.

"Hmm," Jane begins, as if she's thinking about it. "Tickled?" she questions and attacks Maura's stomach with her fingers in a fit of tickling causing Maura to squirm and curl up her knees as she kicks her feet in agony.

"No! Jane, stop it!" Maura manages to sputter out between high-pitched giggles. "Jane!"

Jane laughs and pauses. "Okay, okay," she complies and stops, returning to her previous position as Maura relaxes her body with a few remaining chuckles. "Then what do you want, Maur?"

Maura releases a final giggle and smiles sweetly up at Jane, wrapping her arms around the back of Jane's neck yet again. "I want," she says and pulls down lightly to bring Jane's face closer to her own. "A kiss."

"A kiss?"

"A kiss."

"Well, that I can do," Jane confirms with a laugh.

Jane willingly takes her head the rest of the way and attaches her lips to Maura's in a secure kiss, trying her best to let Maura know that they'll be together the way she wants them to be; happily together without the discriminating eyes of society.

But the discriminating eyes don't only exist in the early 1900s; they're present in 2008 as well.  
Jane only wishes she'll be able to take Maura out of the eyes of the 1900s and into the safety of her own time. Though she knows such a discussion won't come up for quite a while.

"Jane," Maura says softly against Jane's lips, as she pulls not even a full centimeter away.

"Maura?" a juvenile voice questions from a bit further away, sounding like it's from a different world altogether, as if Maura and Jane are off in their own little untouchable world. Though they both wish it were untouchable at this very moment. There's a rustling of leaves and Maura and Jane break apart just in time to see James standing at the opening of their little hidden sanctuary that's not so hidden any longer. Maura's brother stands there in his tracks, holding back a branch that was in his way, and looks at his sister in front of him. He furrows his brow as he recognizes the brown locked girl on top of his sister to be none other than the newest family friend, Ms. Jane Rizzoli. "Jane?" James asks curiously as he quirks his head to the side. "What are you two doing?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: What If He Tells Mother? **

"James!" Maura exclaims; her eyes widening as she scrambles to get out from underneath Jane, hating to shove away her touch and grasp, but she has no choice at the moment. If James had pulled back that branch a moment sooner or even a moment later, they could be stuck in a different hell altogether.

But luckily he pulled back the branch at the time he did, fortunately when their lips were not latched to one another.

"James, what are you doing here?" Maura asks as she successfully rolls out from underneath the brown locked woman, moving to her knees and ignoring the dampness of dew mixed with the leafy floor that soaks her knees.

James furrows his brow slightly and takes a step forward, allowing the branch to snap back to its original position behind him. The sound of the leaves rustling with the branch is the only noise to be heard, as the three of them stay glued to their places.

"I heard noises," James explains simply as he looks from Maura to Jane and then back at Maura.  
His brow creases further in confusion at the blushes gracing their features.  
They look guilty, but of what? "What were you two doing?" he repeats again in a rather blunt tone.

Jane moves from her straddling position to her knees, wiping off her hands on her jeans as she steals a glance over at Maura. They're kneeling a few feet apart, both of them looking like thieves caught in action with their wide eyes that yell nothing more than "guilty!" They just pray for their sake that James is as naïve as he looks.

Maura swallows thickly before responding in a shaky voice, "I fell—"

"We were wrest—" Jane begins at the same time as Maura, their different stories clumping together into a mess right before their eyes.

They both turn their heads to look at each other, their eyes huge with shock.

"We were wrest—" Maura restates her previous story to match Jane's, which would be great if Jane didn't try to fix her own white lie at the same time.

"She fell—" Jane peeps up simultaneously.

Maura closes her eyelids for a moment, biting her lip to keep herself from shouting or crying and giving themselves up completely. She opens her eyes only to stare straight into the eyes of her younger brother. He's standing there with his brow still creased in confusion, a troubled frown spread across his lips.

Jane looks over at Maura and realizes she's not going to be able to do this on her own, so she speaks up. "We were… wrestling," she says quietly, hoping they know what that is in this time period, "and I… Maura fell…" She looks down at the ground as she finishes in a trembling voice, afraid to look up despite the young age of the boy she's talking to. Though she shouldn't be afraid of James; he's merely eight.

A fair minute of dead silence passes between the three of them, each of them quiet as a light breeze blows around them and plays with the leaves to fill the void of noise.

"You know Mother doesn't like roughhousing," James says in a frank voice, his arms laced behind his back as he looks down at his older sister. He and Maura had never truly wrestled in the past, since their mother always scorned them before they'd ever really did anything in whatever silly argument they were having at the moment. And being a little brother, when the chance comes to correct his older sister's actions, he jumps on the opportunity. There's nothing as glorious as making your sibling feel entirely guilty and ashamed.

Maura holds in her thankful sigh and sucks in her bottom lip as she looks up at her younger brother.  
"I know," she replies softly. "But she doesn't have to know, does she, James?"

James furrows his brow again, chewing on his bottom lip. "I suppose not, but next time you catch me doing something I'm not supposed to you have to keep your lips sealed, too. Okay?"

"It's only fair," Maura agrees with a smile.

"Okay," James says as he begins rocking back and forth on his feet, still looking at his sister with a bit of curiosity floating in his eyes. He could easily turn around and leave at this moment, and yet he's sticking around as if he has more to say. After a minute, he quirks his head to the side, his brow still creased in confusion as he asks, "But why are you wearing Jane's shirts? And, why isn't Jane wearing any?"

The honey blonde flushes at the question, bowing her head immediately to hide a heavy blush.  
She's never hated her brother's curiosity as much as she does right now.

"She was curious," Jane speaks up, startling them all.

"Curious?" James asks as he watches the brown locked girl stand up, the knees of her pants terribly soaked with dew and dirt. The young boy can't help but blush and look away as Jane stands up, the rim of her underwear peeking out above her jeans, her torso completely bare, except for the black bra she wore that day. "Curious how?" he continues to ask, trying to direct his attention away from being embarrassed.

"Well," Jane says and walks over toward Maura as she continues, "I'm sure my clothing is considered quite… oh, what's the word you guys use? Atrocious?"

"Yes, atrocious," Maura confirms as she watches Jane approaching her, her eyes never leaving that brown locked teen.

Jane smiles slightly.  
"Yeah, they're _atrocious_, according to all of you. And Maura was just curious as to what they would feel like on, so I—"

"You just let her try them on? Out here?" James asks in slight disbelief, raising his eyebrows in skepticism.

Jane shrugs and replies simply, "Yeah, is that a big deal?"

James opens his mouth to respond, but then he stops himself. "I… I guess not," he settles on saying in a slightly troubled tone.

Maura releases a heavy sigh and finally gets up off her knees, brushing off the leaves that cling to her. "Good, now that that's settled," she begins to get his brother's attention, "No word of this is to get around to Mother, correct?"

James continues chewing on his bottom lip in concentration, still looking between the two teenagers with a curiosity that goes further than they would like. He's not stupid; he can tell something was going on here. But he's eight years old, it's only 1908, he has a very protective mother, and his young ears have never heard of the possibility of two people of the same sex being intimately involved. He's never heard of such happenings and it seems near impossible.

Though walking into this little alcove in the forest and finding them so close, holding onto each other in ways he's only ever heard about, his mind can't help but wander. It reminded him of the story he heard one of the older boys at school talking about. He was complaining about having walked in on his brother and his girlfriend when they were in the middle of something. But the way he had described the two sounded fairly similar to the way Maura and Jane were grasping each other.

And their faces… they were fairly close together, their lips especially. And why are their lips so puffy?  
If James didn't know any better, he'd say they were kissing, to say the least. _But they're both girls!_ He yells at his curious mind, expecting that statement to clear away all of the confusion without any more questions.

"James?" Maura questions, bringing her younger brother out of his arguing thoughts.

"Y-Yes?"

"You're not going to tell Mother of any of this, right?" she asks and takes a few steps toward her younger sibling, noticing the troubled look of confusion in his eyes.

Though instead of questioning it any longer, James shoos away the thoughts and stands up straighter, all the while shaking his head in the negative. "No, Mother will not know. I'll keep quiet," he clarifies in an almost robotic voice.

Maura smiles halfheartedly, but her smile falters as she sees her brother shoot another accusing glance between her and Jane. James' brow creases even more than before.

"Something the matter, James?" she asks softly, taking another couple steps toward her brother.

James quickly blinks a few times, trying to blink away the confusion. He opens his mouth to speak, but then decides against it, though he only repeats the action a few more times before he can find his voice. "I just… I… No," he settles on. "No, nothing's the matter." He forces on a stiff smile.

Before Maura can respond James turns on his heels and makes his way through the thick brush once again, pushing branches out of his way and crushing dead leaves beneath his shoes.

Watching her brother's back disappear behind the trees, Maura releases a heavy sigh and turns toward Jane. "Oh my," she breathes out in a ragged voice. She walks back toward Jane and goes to embrace her when Jane stops her.

"Give him a head start," Jane explains quietly, waiting until the sound of crunching leaves ceases to be heard by their ears. Feeling safe enough, she wraps her arms around Maura in a hug of relief. "That was close."

"Too close," Maura mumbles, burying her face into the nook of Jane's neck.

"Mmhmm," Jane says and tightens her grip around Maura.

Pulling back a bit, her hands holding onto Maura's upper arms to hold her back so she can look her in the face, she asks in a pitiful voice, "Do you think he knows?"

Maura sighs and ducks her head slightly.  
She shakes her head from side to side stiffly, barely moving.  
"No," she says softly.

* * *

"No?" he hears Jane ask.

He watches as Maura shakes her head again, her bottom lip sucked in between her teeth as she always does when she's not entirely sure of an answer. "No, he's too naïve," he hears his older sister say. Her voice sounds more hopeful than certain.

"Are you sure?" Jane asks, her voice sounding like it's shaking as she speaks.

Maura raises her head to look up at Jane. It looks as if her jaw is trembling, but it's hard to tell from this distance. And from the looks of it, she shakes her head.

James swallows thickly as he watches from his crouched position along the outside of the little spot in the forest that the two teenagers believe is hidden. His shoes are in his hands, allowing for him to move more quietly throughout the leaves without as loud crunching noises.

He holds his breath as he watches Jane lean forward and place a light kiss to Maura's forehead.  
His sister seems to close her eyes at the action, as if immediately relaxing to the soft touch.  
Jane repeats the action and Maura opens her eyes, looking up at Jane with a frightened look. If James could see better, he would see Maura's lower lip trembling as she tries to hold back her tears.

Maura lowers her head once again and moves her right hand forward, placing it flat against Jane's bare chest. The air hitches in James' throat.

He watches his older sister trace her fingers across the brown locked girl's naked torso, trailing her fingers along it like she's painting on a canvas. She makes little circles against the bare skin, concentrating more on her hands than anything else. "What if he tells Mother?" James has to strain his hearing to hear Maura's almost inaudible words.

The movements of her hands stop against Jane, apprehensively awaiting an answer.

Jane continues looking down at Maura, despite her bowed head. "He said he wouldn't," James hears her reply quietly.

There's a moment of complete silence followed by an exasperated sigh.  
James watches with curiosity as Maura raises her head slowly, looking like a scared child facing her worst enemy. Her features are tight with worry, stiff looking as she looks up at the brown locked girl who's holding her upright.

"He said he wouldn't tell her about us _roughhousing_," Maura's voice falls from her lips in an obviously worried tone, her voice reaching fairly high. She sounds like she's on the verge of tears.

James stays as still as possible, even trying to keep his breathing to a bare minimum as to stay unnoticed while silence fills the area. He knows they're talking about him, especially now he's positive of it.

He's just not entirely sure of what they're worried he'll tattletale about.  
The clothes? He doesn't think Mother would care too much about that, so it can't be that.  
And the roughhousing, well, yes, Mother would be disappointed.

But neither one is big enough a reason for Maura to be in tears over.

_There has to be something more_, James thinks to himself. Actually, he knows there's something more. It's what he was questioning minutes before when he was standing across from them. It's the same reason he felt the urge to linger behind and watch.

"Then what are you worried he's going to tell her about?" Jane asks softly, her hands still gripping Maura's upper arms to steady her. "How could he know? He didn't walk in soon enough to see us kissing," Jane explains in a whisper.

James stills completely, every function in his young body seeming to come to an immediate stop.  
His breathing catches in his throat, his heart stops mid-beat, and his eyes stay wide as he watches the two teenagers in front of him.

_Kissing?_ His mind wonders in exclamation.

"But he seemed to know," James hears Maura respond in a shaky voice. Maura raises her head yet again, coming face to face with Jane. "He knew something was up, Jane, I could tell. He had this look in his eyes and he kept glancing between us like he knew what was going on."

"But he's eight!"

"I know, I know." Maura sighs again, shaking her head and mumbling something incoherently before asking, "What if he tells?"

Jane remains silent for a moment and then asks softly, "Who would believe him?"

Maura smiles at the question, her lips curling upward. She even releases a small laugh, giggling like a young child. But she stops laughing as she adds on, "James is very believable sometimes."

Jane sighs at the words, wishing they could deal with this at some other point in time. Things were going so well and then James had to stumble in. A boy she barely knows and now he's posing a threat to the two of them. She closes her eyes and asks in a calm voice, "Do you think he'll tell?"

"I-I don't know," Maura responds truthfully, her voice shaking.

James watches as Maura forces her way out of Jane's grip to fall against her, immediately wrapping her arms around the brown locked woman's back and seeming to hold on for dear life. James hasn't seen his sister hug someone like that since she was much, much younger.

Maura begins shaking against Jane, tears and sobs apparently wracking through her body as she embraces her like a huge teddy bear. But unlike a teddy bear, Jane hugs her back, wrapping her arms around Maura's lower back and tucking Maura's head beneath her chin.

Maura begins mumbling something in her cries, her wails coming out muffled and incomprehensible by the time they reach James. The young boy listens closely until he can make out the meaning of the repetitive mutterings.

"I-I don't want to l-lose you," James finally makes sense out of Maura's muffled cries.

He watches as Jane places a light, affectionate kiss to the top of Maura's hair, embracing her in a manner James has never personally witnessed before.

Jane pulls Maura away so she can look her in the eyes as she speaks.  
"You're not going to lose me," she tells James' sister in a voice of certainty.  
Despite her certainty, Maura continues to cry, and she bites her bottom lip while trying to stop her tears. She fails.

"Maura… Maur," Jane says softly while she wipes away a few of Maura's tears with her thumb, smearing the salty liquid against her cheek. James watches the affection being shared between the two, his jaw hanging open dumbly as he stares silently. He watches as a look of complete determination takes over Jane's face. And with that face Jane opens her mouth and says firmly, "Maura, you're never going to lose me. Never, all right? Never."

Maura's lower lip trembles as she looks up at Jane with hopeful eyes and asks quietly, "Never?"

Jane's face softens and her lips curl into a sincere smile. She shakes her head and repeats in a sure voice, "Never."

The statement causes Maura to smile through her tears and her trembling frown turns into a full grin as she smiles up at Jane. Jane grins back and leans down a few inches, still smiling and looking perfectly content as she brings her lips to Maura's, attaching them together in a lush kiss.

James' eyes widen to the size of half dollars as he watches the two women share a kiss.

His breathing begins to start again, moving in and out in shallow, ragged breaths. His heart kicks in again, but it begins beating and thumping in a presto tempo, speeding to win a non-existent race as it takes off at a beat way too fast for his young body.

He continues watching, watching as his sister relaxes into this kiss shared with another girl. She looks happy, extremely happy. She looks like she's in love, relaxing into the kiss in the same manner in which James has once seen Mother relax into one of her scarce kisses with Father.

He watches as the kiss deepens, their movements becoming needy as they grasp onto one another and try to reach for more when there's nothing more to grab onto. He watches, as their bodies seem to align with one another in a perfect match. He watches as they try to close off any space in between them, and as they continue pressing further despite their already tight position that wouldn't even allow the passage of air in between them.

He watches with wide eyes as their lips disconnect for a split millisecond only to reconnect a moment later with more force than before.

And he watches as his sister wraps her arms around the brown locked girl's neck, her clasped hands seeming to bring Jane's head lower to allow for a closer kiss. His eyes scamper across the two girls' bodies, widening as he takes in the way in which Jane's hands grip onto the honey blonde girl's lower back, pushing their bodies closer together.

A deep moan of pleasure reaches James' ears.  
His eyes widen once more, and he immediately shuts his eyes as tightly as possible, squeezing so hard that he can't see any color other than black.

_This is wrong_, he thinks to himself.

Hearing another muffled moan, he takes advantage of their soft noises to rise from his crouching position and sprint through the trees out to safety. They were so lost in their need for each other that their ears simply ignored the sound of crunching leaves as a young boy ran away from his hiding position right outside their little alcove.

As he sprints across their yard and to the safety of their house, he knows he won't tell a soul of what he just saw.  
He knows his mother wouldn't understand. And if he were to tell her, he knows for a fact that Jane would _never_ be able to keep her promise to Maura.

* * *

"Maura?" James calls through the small slit between Maura's bedroom door and the doorframe.

"Come in."

The young boy eases open the bedroom door and walks into his older sister's room, stepping quietly as he makes his way in. He closes the door behind him with a soft click.

Maura glances over her shoulder, turning slightly from her sitting position at her desk to look at her guest.  
She smiles in a friendly manner as her eyes fall on James, and she closes the book on her desk so she can give her brother her full attention. She scoots her chair around until she's facing him.

She can't help but notice a familiar look on her younger brother's face. It's the same curious look that was gracing his features a mere six days before, when James had stumbled into the hidden sanctuary and found Maura and Jane in the not so innocent position.

"Something wrong?" she asks, knowing there's a sea of questions hiding behind that thoughtful look.

James furrows his brow, but shakes his head no. "No, I just have a question for you," he replies and walks over to sit on the edge of Maura's bed, perching on the side of the mattress.

"Alright, what about?"

"Mm, it's about Byron," James begins, sounding a tad nervous as his voice shakes a little.

Maura noticeably stiffens at the mention of his name, but she tries to act normal.  
She shifts in her seat and waits for James to continue.

"Do you… like him?" James flat out asks after a moment or so has passed.  
He watches Maura squirm.

"Well, of course, I like him, he's a nice man," Maura responds honestly, using the word "like" in the loosest of terms.

"Oh, okay," James says softly and looks down at the ground before stating his next question. "But do you plan on… marrying him?" he asks curiously.

Maura releases a heavy sigh and rolls her eyes at the question. "Did Mother send you in here to ask that?"

James laughs, but shakes his head. "No, she didn't put me up to it. I'm just curious. So are you?"

Maura smiles stiffly and lets out a sigh through her nose, flaring her nostrils slightly. She hates when people bring up this whole marriage business, it makes her feel like she has to make a decision right now and here. If she says no, they'll be too curious as to why, but if she says yes she'll be ruining her own life. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" James repeats and tilts his head to the side, trying to look mildly interested in this conversation.

His older sister releases yet another sigh and begins wringing her hands together nervously as she starts to speak. "No, I don't know yet. I don't know him well enough to give a proper answer."

"Oh, okay, I think I get it," James responds quietly, dropping off to silence.

The two siblings sit there in silence for a few minutes, both of them engulfed in their own thoughts and drowned by their own separate questions.

"Do you love him?" the younger boy asks after a couple minutes have elapsed.

Maura doesn't jump from being startled by the question nor does she move at all. She remains sitting in the chair with her legs outstretched, her arms crossed against her chest and her eyes lying unfocused on a random nick in the wood floor. "No," she replies. After all, she's only known him a couple months at best. No one can forcefully fall in love that quickly. Even though she wishes to never be involved with the young man, to rid of any suspicion she adds on softly, "At least not yet."

James nods understandingly at her response, but the gesture goes unnoticed as Maura continues to stare off into the distance. She doesn't wish to get married, especially not to any man her mother has set her up with.

She's already in love, though it's with one person she can never publicly be with, at least not in this day and age.

"Maura?"

"Yes, James?"

"Is it possible for two people of the same sex to fall in love?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Admitting with a Lie **

Maura stiffens at the question, her breathing pauses momentarily as her heart remains the only organ visibly and audibly moving in her entire body. It thumps with the force of a firework exploding into the night sky, echoing in her ears with the resonating sound that lingers and resembles the racket of a hyperactive child pounding on a bass drum.

She remains utterly motionless as her brother's question settles into her ears, filling every cavity and reverberating as if to make sure she heard all the words. Though, her mind already registered the question, word for word.

She blinks several times, still staring at the floor with an unfocused attention. She swallows thickly, her saliva seeming to take on a new characteristic of adhesiveness on its forceful slide down her esophagus.

She keeps her arms crossed against her chest, tightly woven together as if for protection.  
But her makeshift shield can't protect her from James' curiosity.

"I'm sorry, w-what?" she asks quietly, her voice cracking as it falls from her lips.

She breathes in deeply and finds enough strength in that breath to raise her head a few centimeters to allow her gaze to fall on her younger brother. The movement is stiff, as if her brain is trying to work against her muscles and bones, making it feel reluctant and unwanted.

James, too, raises his head and their gazes meet midway, locking onto one another with a secret intensity.  
To any bystander, it may look like an innocent latching of eyesight. But on one end of the gaze is a boy who knows too much, while opposite him is a misunderstood young woman with a fright she doesn't wish to expose.

The young boy holds back a sigh of exasperation at his older sister. He's well aware that Maura heard him correctly, now it just looks like she's playing dumb. He's positive that Maura knows exactly what he's hinting at with this question. But, hey, he'll play along for now.

"You know," he begins softly, choosing his words wisely. He pauses for a second, shifting his jaw side to side as he chews on his bottom lip before continuing. "I mean, is it possible for two… girls to fall in love? Or two boys, even?"

Maura opens her mouth to respond, but the air for the sound died in her trachea long before she lowered her jaw. She closes her eyes and releases an audible, long breath as she tries to calm her racing nerves, but even at this point she can't fool her most gullible logic. She knows what James is trying to get to, she knew since earlier that week when she'd caught sight of that thoughtful look in his eyes.

It's the same look lingering behind now.

Opening her eyes, she swallows deeply under her brother's intimidating stare, knowing that if she says the wrong word that the truth would be surfaced in less than a second.

She searches for plausible words she can link together for a logical answer, and James slightly quirks one eyebrow upward as if saying, "Well?"

Taking a deep breath, Maura looks directly at her brother and smiles softly, her lips moving into a slight grin. "Well, James," she begins in a soft voice, sounding more like a teacher than an older sister. "Of course it's _possible_."

"You mean it happens?" James asks in a voice of disbelief, a look of disgust crawling over his features at the thought. It sounds completely wrong to him. He's only ever been taught that love is something between a man and a woman, never shared between any other pairing.

Maura, on the other hand, is no stranger to the idea.  
She chuckles while releasing a sigh and shakes her head gently.  
"My goodness, James, why the sudden curiosity?"

The laughing ceases.

James stares at Maura with a near threatening look.  
His accusing stare is more than enough to tell her exactly what has sprouted this sudden curiosity.

Maura freezes in her spot once again, feeling a slight chill scamper down her spine.  
_He knows_, the thought blares in her mind at the same decibel as being shouted through a loud speaker.

"Just answer the question," James responds slowly, sending his older sister a blank stare. "Does it happen?"

Maura's mouth turns dry at the question, her saliva replaced with nothing more than sand and shards of glass that feel like knives running down her throat as she tries to swallow her fear. "I don't know," she croaks out in a dry voice.

James snorts at the response. He knows the true answer.  
"You don't know?" he asks anyways.

"Well, I'm not saying it's never happened over the course of history, James, I'm just saying I don't really know if it happens." Maura withers under the same blank stare thrown at her by her brother and she adds on quickly, "At least it doesn't happen _often_."

James smirks at the addition of words. "But you're saying it does happen?"

"I don't know, James! I'm sure it does, people fall in love with all kinds of things! For all I know there could be some guy out there who's fallen madly and deeply in love with his dog!" Maura almost shouts in response, her voice rising in exasperation and annoyance with her younger brother.

"With a… dog?" James asks skeptically, cracking a smile and letting out a laugh at the preposterous idea.

But his laughter doesn't seem to relax his sister at all. The girl in the chair opposite him merely stares back with a look of pure vexation until his laughter subsides, placing the awkward silence of the conversation back into place.

James releases a heavy sigh and falls backward onto Maura's bed, sprawling out his upper body on the springy mattress. He stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying to ignore the silence by focusing on his many thoughts and questions.

He knows what's going on between his sister and Jane.  
He saw them together the other day when they thought they were alone.  
He saw them cling to each other in ways only lovers do, and he saw them affectionately kiss one another in a way that he's only ever seen shared between a husband and wife, but their affection and desire was apparently so much younger with a refreshing vibe to it versus the aging love between an old married couple.

He saw all of this; so much love between two people.  
The only part that significantly troubles him is that those two people are both girls.

He may only be eight, but never before has he heard of such a happening. To his young ears, it sounds like a ridiculous concept.

But what he witnessed between Maura and Jane goes completely against the grain.

Obviously, these relationships happen, at least from what Maura has told him.  
There's only one thing he's not entirely sure about…

"Is it right?"

Maura perks her head up, raising her gaze from her crossed arms to look at her brother.  
"Is what right?"

James lets out another sigh and remains in his reclined position. Staring up at the ceiling, he elaborates his question further. "Those kinds of relationships, between two… girls, or two boys. Are they… right?"

"James," Maura begins in a sigh, almost a whine to be more specific. "Why don't you ask Mother about this? Or Father? I'm sure they'd—"

"Because I'm asking _you_," James responds firmly, still keeping his gaze on the plain ceiling above him.

"Why me, James?" Maura asks softly. She continues to look at her sibling, despite that she's only staring at the reclined body versus being acknowledged by eye contact. "Mother or Father can explain it just as well—"

"No, they can't," James interrupts once more.  
An awkward silence overtakes the space between the two siblings, leaving them both sitting there motionless as they wait for the other to speak. James finally pushes his body from lying down on the mattress to return to his sitting position, perched on the edge of the bed. He directs his gaze to look at Maura. Their eyes meet.

"James, I don't know what it is you want me to tell you," Maura says softly. She's never wanted to escape from this bedroom as much as she does at this very moment.

James lets out a light sigh, never breaking his gaze with Maura's.  
"Just tell me if it's right."

The gaze breaks, Maura dropping her eyes to the ground.  
She shifts in her seat, wringing her hands together in her lap while mustering up the courage to speak. If she says what she truly believes, she knows that James will bring up Jane immediately and there will be no more hiding.

And she's not entirely positive that she'll be able to make James keep quiet about some matter as serious as this.

Breaking the stiff silence with a soft whisper, she replies quietly, "No. To some people it's wrong."  
She holds back the urge to cringe as she hears her own words leave her lips, sounding cruel to her own ears.

"So it's not right?" James generalizes.  
Maura raises her gaze to stare at her brother with a slight glare.

"I didn't say that, James!" Maura exclaims back at the younger boy, hating how he jumps to conclusions with the first word that leaves her mouth. Looking away from her brother, Maura stands up from her chair and walks toward one of the windows of her bedroom. She stands with her back facing James. "I didn't say that," she repeats quietly. "I said that there are _some_ people out there who find it wrong. Some people, James, not all people."

"Oh," James replies quietly as he stares at his sister's back. He's silent for a moment, thinking about all that his sister has told him, biased or not, and before he can hold back the words from falling from his lips, they're whishing into the room for Maura to hear. "Do you think it's wrong?"

James watches as his sister's body stiffens at the words, her entire form seeming to turn rigid. She straightens up and remains facing the window, looking motionless from behind as she responds softly, "No, James, I don't think it's wrong. People can't control who they fall in love with…"

"They can't?"

Maura shakes her head from side to side, wishing most of all that her brother would just leave her alone at this very moment. Despite her irritation, she manages to respond in a relatively calm voice, "No."

James remains quiet, realizing the aggravation that came with that last response. He's not a stupid little brother like most; he knows when he's pushing too far, and he knows when to give his sibling a moment of space.

Waiting to hear a calm release of air and finding it safe to speak once again, James asks quietly, "Mother thinks it's wrong, doesn't she? And Father?"

Maura nearly jumps at her brother's voice. She'd almost forgotten he was in the room; it'd been so quiet.  
She lets out a sigh. "I don't know James, but my guess is yes. Mother's very… narrow-minded and traditional in her views, as is Father. You know that, James."

"Mmhmm." Of course he knew that about his parents, he was just checking.  
"Hey, Maura?"

"Yes, James?" Maura replies, still facing the window and looking out on the backyard.

"You're not like that, are you?"

She sighs. "Like what, James?"

There's a momentary pause before James rephrases his question the best he is capable of doing with his eight-year-old mind.  
"You… you're not like that… you like boys, right?"

Maura freezes once again, this time her breathing seeming to stop as well, clogging up in her trachea and pausing in her lungs. She stands there motionless, staring out the window as her heart skips a beat while deciding whether to speed up with the racing, nerve-racking adrenaline or to slow to a skidding halt with her breathing.

How is she supposed to answer a question like that? If she were to take the negative right now, chances are that answer would make it back to her mother in no time. Not only would she be looked down upon, she'd be a shame to her parents as well. What her mother only ever wanted was for her daughter to grow up well and then marry off to a handsome, proper, young gentleman.

Her eyes fall shut, as the air pressure in the room seems to weigh down against solely her body, strapping her to her place with an unbeatable force. The pressure builds in her ears, a wave of dizziness washes through her. The room seems to sway around her, moving beneath her feet like she's standing upon the deck of an unsteady ship. She steadies herself, grabbing the windowsill, her eyes still closed.

If she were to find out about what she truly feels inside, the urges she has, the attractions she feels, her world would come crashing down in a matter of seconds.

She'd never want to disappoint her mother to any great extent.  
Her heart tightens at the thought.

The acidity in her blood rises to an unbearable amount and she opens her mouth, silently gasping for the air she refused to breathe only split moments before. Her eyes shoot open, wide as she stares out at the comforting scenery of the backyard just beyond the pane of glass.

She tightens her grip, realizing she's still grasping onto the windowsill for support as the pressure plays against her body, luring her to faint beneath the worry and possibilities that could play out if the wrong words fall from her lips.

But she pulls through, taking deep breaths to overcome the waves of dizziness that threaten to pull her down to the floor. All the while, the milliseconds continue to tick by as James watches his sister fight to stay standing.

Maura raises her eyelids from an elongated blink to look out at the backyard once again. Her vision immediately falls on the black water pump sticking up a few feet above the ground, standing there with so much hidden within its works. With a jiggle of that handle, one may be disappointed when no water is drawn from the earth. However that jiggle is able to unlock an entire world that is unknown to all of this time.

All except one, that is.

And the one who knows about the world hidden behind the handle of that water pump is currently staring at it longingly, wishing with all her might that she could make a mad dash to the backyard and escape into the safety of Jane's arms, separated from the awful question by 100 years.

"Maura?"

Maura stiffens at James' voice, realizing a grand amount of time has passed since the original question was even asked.  
"Hmm?"

"You're not like that, right?" James asks yet again, hoping that this time he'll get an answer instead of a silent sister.

Taking a final glance at the backyard, her eyes still focused in on the black pipe that connects her to the other world, the one thing that connects her to Jane, she says a silent prayer for forgiveness in her mind, hoping that what she's about to say will in no way affect her relationship with that brown locked woman.

Swallowing thickly and bracing herself by grabbing the windowsill a little harder, she replies quietly, "No, James, I'm not like that." She's silent for a moment before she gains enough strength to add on softly, "I l-like boys."

There's silence.  
There's no confirmation or even recognition that Maura replied with a response that would make James happy to hear.

Nothing.

Nothing besides complete silence filling every crevice of the bedroom.

Maura remains utterly motionless in her footsteps, using the windowsill for support as she looks down at that mocking water pump. She hates hearing her own words echoing in her ears, the lie reverberating, pinching at her heart with sharp tweezers.

She's brought out of her misery by the sound of her mattress squeaking as James rises from the bed.  
Shuffling footsteps and the slamming of her bedroom door follow not long after.

"James?" Maura questions, turning around on her heels as the door rattles in its doorframe. She lets her eyes scatter across the features of her room, skirting across the vacant space in front of her.

Her heart is pinched at once again.

* * *

James slams Maura's bedroom door and hurries off to his own bedroom down the hallway, scurrying down the hall quietly to avoid any impromptu meetings with his parents. He makes his way down the corridor and to the safety of his own bedroom where he closes the door a little more quietly.

He makes his way over to his bed and sits on the edge in the same manner that he was perching on Maura's bed only minutes before.

He crosses his arms against his chest and glares down at the ground, toeing the wood floor with his bare foot.  
He releases a heavy sigh and attempts to calm the anger boiling in his blood, but he can't seem to stop it.

Maybe he's taking things way out of proportions, but he's never felt like this before.  
Or maybe it's because of the importance of this matter over any other topics he's shared with Maura.

Either way, he's never felt so far away from his sister ever before. It's as if a wall just magically appeared between him and Maura, separating them all by the cause of a few wrongly said words.

In the past there has never been a wall of any sort separating the two. They've always been able to tell each other everything. They were always able to trust one another with the things that they couldn't keep to themselves or share with Mother or Father.

And now… the tables have turned.

Still glaring at the floor with a look of hatred mixed with betrayal and disappointment, James mutters quietly, "She lied to me."

* * *

"Hey, Ma?" Jane asks softly, walking into the living room to see her mother sitting on the couch, flipping through the television channels at the awful hour of the evening. There's never anything on TV at this time of day.

"Yes, sweetie?" Angela raises her gaze to meet her daughter's as she sits in the chair diagonal to the couch.

"I was wondering," Jane continues, plopping down into the recliner. She smiles lightly as Angela mutes the television to give her daughter her full attention. "It's about this summer…"

"What about it?" Angela asks, placing the remote on the empty seat cushion beside her.

"Do I… have to go this summer?" Jane asks uneasily, hating to bring up the topic since she knows she'll lose the battle anyways.

Every summer she and Frankie take off to their grandparents' house for a couple months, give or take a couple weeks depending on how long their summer break is. They always spend the first week at home, but come mid-June it's off to Grandma and Grandpa's for the remainder of the summer days.

"Jane, we've talked about this before," Angela says with a sigh, annoyed that Jane seems to think that if she bugs her enough that maybe, just maybe, she'll win her over.

But she never does.

"Ma, I know, but this time it's different. I love Grandma and Grandpa, I do, but two months is a very long time and I—"

"Jane, please," Angela interrupts, "I'm sure you'll survive, and I'm positive Barry can find somebody to hang out with during the break. We go over this every year."

"But this year it's different," Jane tries again, her voice softer than before as the fight dies out.

Angela releases a heavy sigh through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth as she tries to restrain herself from yelling. It seems almost every year since middle school Jane has been trying to weasel her way out of the summer visits with her grandparents, and every year Angela and Jane always have the same little argument that always ends in Jane at her grandparents' house anyways. Closing her eyes, she asks calmly, "How is this year any different than the others?"

Jane bows her head and lowers her gaze to stare down at the floor, remaining silent.  
Angela wouldn't understand the one thing that's making Jane want to stay in town this year more than any other. It's the one thing no one knows about, and it's the one thing that nobody can understand. It's Jane's secret for the most part, minus a few failed attempts of getting Frost to believe her.

But even then, Frost doesn't understand.

As much as Jane would like to, she can't open her mouth and blurt out that she doesn't want to leave Maura.

"Janie, sweetie, you're going," Angela peeps up after a near minute has elapsed and Jane has failed to respond with anything other than silence. "You know Grandma and Grandpa look forward to this every summer, they love having you and Frankie there. You know that."

"Ma, can't I stay here just this once? Please?" Jane tries one last time, looking back at her mother with a hopeful look in her eyes. If only she had mastered the puppy dog eyes as a child, but she didn't receive that trait.

Angela shakes her head, pursing her lips in a manner that states end of discussion. "No, Jane, you're go—"

"But next year I'll be going off to college, Ma."

"Then you won't have to go next summer. But right now you still have a year of school to go, and this may be your last summer at your grandparents' so can't you just go and be a happy camper? You can stay home next summer, alright?"

"Fine," Jane replies quietly, crossing her arms to match the attitude in her voice. She slumps in her chair and looks away from her mother, thinking to herself, _yeah I'll be here next year, but Maura won't be_.

Her chest tightens at the thought, an image of that date of death, or rather the date of disappearance, flashes across her memory. Perhaps Maura only went missing that year, but wherever she went it seems she was as good as dead if her own family felt the need to put up a gravestone with a date of death.

And at this point in time, the place where Maura runs off to is still a mystery to Jane.  
But right now all she can manage to think about is a way to break the news to Maura that she'll be away for an entire two months over the summer, with no contact. After all, one can't make a collect call to the past.

Though, the being apart for two months portion is not the part that troubles Jane.  
She knows she and Maura can survive the time apart.  
The only thing that frightens her is Maura's mother…

She can only imagine how far a mother can push with a practically arranged marriage over the course of two months, especially with no interruptions.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Dreams & a Surprise **

The night is quickly falling, the sky darkening and the stars beginning to twinkle and shine like diamonds against the almost black, clear backdrop of a sky. Dusk has long passed and families with young ones settle in for the evening, locking their doors and closing the blinds as they prepare to call it a night and turn in for bed.

Though to some this time of night signals a time for rest, to others the day has just begun.

There are some who live for the night; dwelling in the shadows and privacy that nightfall grants them. In the darkness of the night they have no fears of being caught in daylight. The eyes of the ones they fear most are drooped under sleep, tucked in beneath blankets and leaving them to roam free throughout the protective darkness.

A brown locked girl waits near her bedroom door, curled with her knees drawn to her chest and her ear pressed softly against the door as she listens to her mother's muffled footsteps on the padded carpet as she goes about her nightly routine.

The lights in her room are off, giving any passerby the illusion that she's currently tucked in her bed, already halfway down the pathway to sleep. But unlike other kids her age, she is one of the rare that lives for the night.

It's at this time, when the dark blanket of night has fallen across the houses and towns and both her mother and brother have been lured into the dreamland, that she is granted access to her own freedoms.

With the soft click of her mother's bedroom door shutting, she waits a few minutes before finding it safe enough to open her own door and tiptoe down the stairs, moving about with almost near perfection at avoiding the several creaking floorboards she has managed to memorize the exact positions of.

She makes her way down the stairs, quickly and quietly, and then out the front door.  
She pulls it shut behind her, and is sure to leave it locked the way it was when her mother left it.

Never taking a look back at the house behind her, she descends the few steps off the front stoop, skipping the bottom two, and dashes across her front lawn in a familiar direction.

This is certainly not the first time she has made this mad escape in the early hours of the night.  
She's taken this path whenever needed for nearly three or four months. And no matter the risks she may be taking by leaving home at this time, or even the lack of sleep she's inflicting upon herself, the prize at the end is always worth the fight.

_I'm coming, Maura_, she thinks to herself as she takes a quick double glance to her left and right before running across the dimly lit street.

If you had even made the slightest hint to Jane a year ago that right now she'd be falling head over heels in love with a beautiful woman from 1908, she'd tell you you're a fucking lunatic. But sometimes, life doesn't always pan out the way you expect it.

And to say the least, this future was in no way expected for Jane.

Sprinting the last few yards to the dingy part of the park, the place that no one really goes to anymore because of its ugliness, she can feel her heart beating faster and not because of the amount of running, but because of what's waiting for her at the finish line.

She smiles to herself at the thought.

Maura.  
_Her_ Maura.  
Her… _love_.

She feels a tiny blush creeping up the back of her neck, though her heart swells at the realization.  
She loves Maura, there's no denying that. And it seems that almost every surprise visit she has with her only grows more intense than the last, only making her more anxious to return with her blossoming curiosity.

Coming to the usual spot in the park, she grins as her eyes fall on the old, forgotten water pump.  
She jogs the rest of the way over and halts right in front of it, allowing her body a minute or so to cool down from the run. She gets her breathing under control before even placing a finger on the slowly rusting object that stands before her.

With a final flicker of Maura's smiling face floating across her mind, she wraps her fingers around the handle, gripping it in the same manner that her hand is now accustomed. She smiles and jiggles the handle like she always does, awaiting the odd, yet usual, gust of wind to blow around her.

The world stills.

She raises her head and looks around.  
The park is the same old, rotting place from back home.  
There's no abnormally huge gust of wind, but only the faint breeze of the late spring night.

She laughs reassuringly and shakes her head at her own stupidity, knowing that she must have just not moved the handle enough.

Telling herself not to freak out, she replaces her grasp around the handle, holding on a little tighter than before. Holding her breath, she jiggles the handle once again, moving it around violently as everything remains the same yet again.

"What the fuck?" she asks the world around her as she takes a step away from the water pump. She glares at it, scrunching up her brow, and then looks around her once more, hoping, praying, that the huge Isles household will magically appear right behind her.

But the desolate grassy area remains in its place.

She swallows thickly and looks back at the pipe, the glare washed away as a look of alarm and worry graces her features. "No, it can't be…" she whispers, shaking her head in disbelief as she approaches the water pump yet again.

She grips the handle with all her force and yanks with all her might, silently praying for it to work. She thinks back to the first time she fooled with this piece of shit and she remembers kicking it to make it work.

She kicks at the base of the pipe in vain.

She yanks and kicks and pulls and jiggles, but the world stays the same. The night stays eerily silent around her, only broken every now and then by the distant sound of a car driving by on a midnight errand. A horn honks in the distance, serving as a mocking reminder that it's not working; she's still in 2008.

She curses under her breath and kicks the pipe one last time, the thud echoing with a clang that only semi mirrors the amount of pain that shoots from her toe and straight up her leg.

"Fuck, no, work you damn thing!" she whispers in an exasperated, near desperate voice as she tugs once more. But time refuses to budge in any direction besides forward.

Startled by a high-pitched creaking noise from the old pump, she releases the handle and steps back cautiously. The pump flips back into its normal position, the handle relaxing as a useless drizzle of murky mud that used to be water falls from the spout and drops to the ground.

"This cannot be happening…"

She falls to the ground, bringing her knees up toward her chest as she stares at the water pump with wide eyes. Her throat closes up and the foreign feeling of tears begins to prick at the back of her eyes in a teasing manner, daring to flow at any second.

"No, no, no, no, no," she murmurs beneath her breath, shaking her head from side to side in a useless attempt to rid of the reality around her. She lowers her head to rest on her arms, hiding in the shelter of her arms and knees as she sits there curled up on the ground, squeezing her eyes shut like this is a bad game of hide-and-seek.

She stays that way for a good few minutes, muttering obscenities from her parted lips.

Raising her head from the comforts of her arms, she looks directly across from her at the water pump, squinting at it with slightly tearstained eyes. She breathes in deeply, the air going into her nostrils and sounding like someone trying to calm their tears with a few sniffles. She runs an already dampened forearm across her eyes.

This feeling of determination begins to boil in the pit of her stomach while she stares at the mocking pipe a few feet away. The feeling intensifies, the adrenaline pumping through her system as she thinks of the past and the possibility of never seeing Maura again. She grits her jaw at the possibility, clenching her fists and refusing to walk away.

Without saying a word, she gets back to her feet and eyes the water pump like an enemy preparing an attack. Finding no alternative, she runs to the pump, grabs hold and pulls with all the strength she can muster up, forgetting that this very execution failed only minutes before. She pulls and kicks and releases a strangled cry of frustration, her eyes scrunched shut in her own misery.

"No!" she cries out and opens her eyes.

She freezes.

She's no longer in the park.

She relaxes her clenched muscles, finding her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She takes a look around her, sitting up from a lying down position, and stares around her darkened room with confused eyes.

She's breathing heavily and her heart feels like it's pounding up in her head instead of in her chest. Her hair is a matted mess, her bed sheets are clinging to her bare arms and legs in a layer of sweat, and she immediately pulls them off and throws them to the side of her bed.

She swallows thickly, looking around her room once more before looking down at her hands only to find deep imprints from where she was gripping so hard. She breathes out heavily and deeply, trying to calm her racing heart, but it's no use.

Leaning her back against the headboard of her bed, she allows her head to fall backwards, her eyes falling shut as she lets her heart beat back to normal and her shallow, quick breaths to slow to reasonable intervals.

"Oh my god," she whispers, her voice falling from her lips and into her silent bedroom only to die in the stillness.

A shiver scampers down her spine as the dream replays in her mind, and an odd feeling settles in the pit of her stomach. It's almost a sickening feeling, like a look on reality and how insane this whole time travel concept is.

And the more she thinks about the possibilities of being stuck on one side of time, separated from Maura, the feeling intensifies and sets into every crevice of her thoughts.

With the thoughts, her heart begins to ache at the endless what-ifs, and in minutes she finds herself jumping out of her bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt before rushing down the steps and out her front door, not giving a shit if she's too loud and wakes the whole damn neighborhood.

Leaving the door banging shut against the jam with a loud slam, she literally jumps off the front stoop and breaks off into a run straight toward the park. Her pants not completely zipped yet as she runs and her shirt is on backwards, disheveled from her mad dash to get dressed, but none of that matters at this point in time.

And as she sprints down the middle of the dimly lit street, so much like in her dream, with the sound of her stomping tennis shoes against the asphalt echoing in the silent night, her mind is set on one thing and one thing only: Maura.

* * *

Maura stirs in her sleep, furrowing her brow unconsciously as she turns onto her side, her hearing focusing in on a little tapping sound that's beyond annoying by this point. At first she assumed it must be a small animal moving around in the night, or even a tree branch knocking against her window in the unruly wind that's been whipping around the entire evening. But as the sound persists endlessly, she can't bare to ignore that tiny pest of a noise any longer.

She cracks open one eye to meet the darkness of her room, the objects and furniture outlined by shadows casted by the faint moonlight. The shadow of a tree branch dances across her floor as a gust of wind blows in the late night.

For a split second she wonders if she was only imagining the noise as it seems to cease since she's opened her eyes, but alas, that god awful tapping comes back once more, making Maura tense in her bed sheets.

It's a light sound, no louder than a pebble falling against glass, but whatever it is, it won't stop.

It taps again and Maura tries to follow the sound with her ears, her vision following suit and she ends up staring directly at the window. There's silence for a minute as she stares at the darkness, nothing more than shadows swaying in the moonlight, only to be broken by yet another tap and an object being thrown against her window.

Almost immediately she springs up from her sleep and stalks the several feet from her bed to the window, not even bothering to take a look down at the ground to see the cause of the late night disruption before she slams open the window in a tired rage.

"I beg your pardon, but do you have any idea what hour of the night it is? And what in heavens are you doing?" she hisses down at her nuisance, trying to stay quiet as to not wake the rest of the house. But as she leans out the window a few inches to catch a glance of the scoundrel, her eyes fall on nothing more than the vacant yard below. "Oh, so now you're hiding?" she hisses back through gritted teeth.

There's some rustling of leaves and a body comes out from the bushes beside the house, moving cautiously.

"Jane!" Maura shouts in a whisper, almost forgetting to control her voice at the sight of the brown locked woman standing in her yard, looking up at her with a crooked, uneasy smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see you," she replies softly.

Maura's heart flutters at the words, though she can't help but ask, "This couldn't wait until morning?"

"No. Can I come up?"

Maura sucks in her bottom lip and glances over her shoulder to look into her room, more so thinking of her sleeping parents across the hall. She turns back toward the window and calls down quietly, "I don't have a trellis for you to climb, I'm afraid."

Jane laughs lightly from below, shaking her head at the idea. "Can I just sneak in the through the front door?" she asks softly, her hands in her pockets as she hopes for a yes.

"Only if you can be quiet. I don't want to wake Mother or Father," Maura says and disappears from the window before Jane even has a chance to respond. Within minutes there's a slight creaking sound of a hinge as the front door of the Isles house opens to reveal the main entrance.

It's pitch black and Jane enters quickly and quietly, removing her shoes to tiptoe across the floor.  
"Maura?" she hisses in question as she enters the house and closes the door as quietly as possible only to find herself alone in the main hall.

She's answered by a shadow ascending the darkened stairs. She smiles and follows the shadow, taking the steps two at a time and holding her breath until she's safely in Maura's bedroom, the door securely shut behind them.

The room is dark, only dimly lit by the faint moonlight drifting in from the night sky outside the still open window.

"What are you doing here?" the shadow that Jane can only assume to be Maura asks in a curious whisper.

Jane can't find her voice fast enough so she breaks the distance between them and wraps her arms around Maura's form in a tight, loving embrace. She holds her for a minute or so, her head resting next to Maura's as she thanks all the deities out there for giving her the chance to come back once more; unlike her dream.

She shivers at the remembrance; it felt so real, she can't help but feel more than a little freaked.

"What's wrong?" Maura asks softly, realizing that something is up from the type of hug Jane is wrapping her in.

She breathes in deeply, the air sounding audibly as it passes through her nostrils and catches in her throat on a batch of tears daring to release if she looks too far into that dream. "I had a really bad dream," Jane whispers in a shaky voice, tightening her arms around Maura. "I was just coming to see you and then that… goddamn pump or time portal or whatever the hell it is just… god, I don't know! It wouldn't work! It was nothing more than an old, crappy piece of shit littering the park and… I… you… I couldn't get to you…" she finishes breathlessly, her voice cracking even as a whisper.

Maura hugs Jane back harder before pulling back far enough to look her in the face, their arms still around one another. She studies Jane's face in the darkness, the shadows making it difficult to see the near invisible tears hesitantly falling from her eyes, but she manages to see a single river glistening in the twinkling moonlight as it journeys down Jane's rounded cheek.

Reaching forward with a trembling hand, Maura touches her fingertips to Jane's cheek, the soft pads of her fingers coming directly into contact with the salty fluid flowing from her eyes. "Jane," she begins in a saddened whisper. "It was just a dream, Jane…"

"I know," she responds, though there's no hint of honesty in that response. "I know," she says again as if to reassure her own mind as she takes her one hand up toward her face. She grabs hold of Maura's hand and stills her motions, wrapping her fingers around Maura's delicate hand. She brings the hand to her lips and places a soft kiss to the slightly curled fingers, her lips brushing against the skin with nothing more than love and care. "I know," she says yet again, "But… I never want to lose you, not like that at least."

Maura tenses at the mention of loss. Jane had promised she'd never lose her. Never. But what could Jane possibly do if she couldn't even get to her?

Maura's eyes drift to a different part of the room, away from Jane, as the thoughts jam at her mind, building up an entire new wall of worry inside of her. She never thought of being separated from Jane because of something as silly as a water pump, but then again, it's not the pump that matters. It's all the forces of time and the miraculous world that goes along with it.

Separated by Mother?

Yes, that she thought possible.

Separated by time?

She had never even considered it before.

But despite the lunacy of the entire time traveling belief, and how before she met Jane she thought those people who claimed to have time traveled were nothing more than loonies, she never even thought of time as an antagonist in her life.

Feeling Jane place another set of light kisses across her fingertips and then one kiss to the center of her palm, she raises her vision to meet Jane's. The welling tears in Jane's eyes are now reflected back in Maura's as well.

"You won't lose me," Maura states quietly, determination evident in her soft voice, though faltering at the seams.

Jane knits her brow together at the lack of certainty in Maura's voice, the worry filling both of their faces.  
As if to back up her claim she steps forward and brings her lips to Jane's in a soft kiss before wrapping her arms around Jane's back in yet another much-needed hug. She rests her head against Jane's chest and breathes out audibly, allowing her eyes to close as that coat of protection washes over her body as Jane's arms wrap securely around her lower back.

Sighing quietly and telling her mind to stop with its silly worrying, she reassures softly, "It was just a dream."

* * *

Maura and Jane are walking through a grassy field, hand in hand, some several days later. This particular field isn't new to them; they've been here before, back on one rainy day several months ago. They were enjoying each other's company as nothing more than new friends, but that was before that certain storm hit.

"Where are you taking me?" Jane asks for nearly the fifth time since they left the Isles residence, lagging behind Maura a few steps as they weave their way through the grassy field. It looks vaguely familiar to her, but to be honest Maura has pulled Jane along to so many different hideouts that she can't even keep them straight.

"You'll see when we get there," Maura says and flashes a cute grin over her shoulder at the woman she's pulling along behind her, much like a child dragging along a toy tied to a string.

"Is it a surprise?" Jane asks in a teasing voice as she leaps forward and wraps her arms around Maura's waist, stilling her from walking any farther. She holds Maura back against her own body, tightening her grip to secure her from squirming away.

Maura screeches playfully as she feels Jane attacking her neck with soft, gentle kisses. "I like surprises," Jane mumbles, her words vibrating against the skin of Maura's neck as they fall from her parted lips.

Maura giggles and just as Jane begins playing down near her collarbone, she replies in a trembling voice, "Yes, Jane, it's a surprise!" She ends in a near shout, laughing as Jane finds a ticklish spot on her neck while the brown locked woman explores with her tongue.

"And Ms. Rizzoli," she begins in an attempted calm voice, using Jane's last name to get her attention. "If you knew anything about sur-surprises… you'd kn-know that I-I can't…" she falters off into a fit of laughter after fumbling around her words while Jane sucks in on the skin just above her collarbone, jutting out her tongue teasingly. "You'd know," she begins again, placing her hands on Jane's forearms to keep Jane's embrace around her waist. "That I can't tell you w-what the surprise is."

"Will I like the surprise?" Jane asks as she tilts her head to the side, bringing her lips slightly away from Maura's neck.

"I… I think you will."

"Ooh, can you give me any hints?"

"No."

"Mm," Jane murmurs softly, shaking her head as she replaces her lips to her love's neck, nipping lightly at the skin.

Maura sighs and unconsciously caresses Jane's forearms with her fingers, blissfully enjoying the touch, but she whines quietly, "Janeeee… Come on, you're going to leave me another love bite."

"But I love you," Jane replies against Maura's skin, her words muffled.

Maura smiles to herself. "I know you do, but can you hold off on the love bite? Please? I… I really want to get there. Jane, stop."

Jane pulls away a few inches, releasing a heavy sigh. "Will I ever get to leave another love bite?" she asks, knowing that Maura is a little uptight about anything that could possibly reveal their relationship to the public eye.

"Yes, you'll get to," Maura says and turns around in Jane's embrace so that Jane's arms are now wrapped around her lower back. "Just… not yet," she finishes with a mischievous smile, a glimmer shining in her eyes as she looks up into Jane's dark brown eyes.

"Not yet?" Jane asks, quirking her head to the side curiously.

"Yes, not yet. But if you let us get to the surprise…" Maura trails off to nothing more than a slightly flirtatious smirk.

And Jane catches on fairly quickly, taking apart her clasped hands to sit on Maura's hips as she leans forward with a light kiss to her lips. "I think I'm going to like this surprise," she hums happily, pulling away and allowing Maura to walk in front of her again.

They rejoin their hands and Jane walks next to Maura this time, versus lagging behind.

"I hope you do," Maura says softly, turning her head to look straight forward as she begins to walk in the same direction she was headed only a couple minutes before.

And Maura really does hope that Jane likes this certain surprise. She's been thinking about it for the past couple weeks since Jane told her the news of her summer plans. Two to three months without seeing each other… Maura doesn't even want to think about it, but she knows if she ignores it then she'll regret not trying to spend as much time as possible with Jane in the remaining weeks.

Of course Maura was sad when Jane broke the news to her, but who wouldn't be sad to hear something like that? Their freest time of the year is coming up and they don't even get the opportunity to spend it together.

She wishes she could just pack her bags and trail along with Jane, following along as a third wheel, but she knows that wouldn't work. Her mother would find it a little more than strange, and Jane is going to her grandparents' house. Maura wouldn't want them freaking out at the sight of her in the same manner that Jane's mother flipped when she laid eyes on her, claiming her as a long lost relative.

But the point is, she can't just up and leave over the summer, no matter how much she wishes she could.  
Though to some people it may seem logical to run off and follow her love and to leave her family behind, to Maura this idea is not as simple as it is for others. She loves her family, despite their strictness, and she can't just leave them behind like that.

And right now she just wants to spend as much time with Jane as humanly possible before they break apart for a couple lonely months over the summer.

As said, Maura's been thinking about this certain surprise for quite a while now.  
The thoughts have been fudging her mind for weeks, her curiosity looming and getting the best of her.

Though she's young and still has no idea how this really works between two girls, she still wants to try it.

She's so nervous about it that she can't even bring herself to think, or to even say, the proper word.  
She's grown accustomed to referring to this surprise as nothing more than "it."

All she knows is that she loves Jane, more than she probably should. If she could, she'd run off and live in a little cottage or even a shed with Jane for the rest of her life if it meant they'd always have one another.

"Okay," Maura begins softly and comes to a halt. Jane does the same and turns her head to the side to look at Maura. "We're here."

Jane had been walking with her head down most of the way, and for the first time she looks up in front her, her eyes brightening as she sees where they are.

Standing in front of them is an abandoned, white, wooden shed.

Jane smiles and squeezes Maura's hand in hers. "Maura," she says softly, every memory rushing back to her as she stares at the shed. Every movement, every shallow breath, every touch, and every kiss… her heart beats harder.

Maura doesn't say anything in response, but she walks forward, Jane following closely behind, and opens the door to the shed. It swings open with a high-pitched squeal released from the hinges as it bangs back against the outer wall.

Maura looks back at Jane with a sweet smile and they both enter, still joined by their hands the same way they entered months before.

The shed is still vacant besides for a few forgotten, rusting garden tools, as it was left before them.  
There's a slightly musty smell, like the rainwater from several different storms has settled into the wood for too long. The structure is still rickety with holes throughout the wood, letting in tiny rays of afternoon sunlight to shine about on the wood-covered floor. Little bits of weeds and grass have popped up between the boards, looking for shelter, and bits of dirt have been scattered across the floor, probably from a handful of animals that have once used this abandoned place as a home over the years.

Though dirty and in need of an entire redesigning, to Maura and Jane it couldn't be better.

"This is the surprise?" Jane asks softly, no sign of dislike in her voice, only curiosity and a drop of eagerness. She catches Maura's sight of vision with her own and smiles, receiving an identical grin back.

Maura sucks in her bottom lip nervously and nods her head. "This is it," she begins and anxiously squeezes Jane's hand.

She breathes in deeply, trying to supply enough oxygen to her quickening heart. The thoughts blur in her mind, coming together as a mass of confused words lying on the tip of her tongue.

Jane glances up at the ceiling before returning her gaze to Maura, a slight batch of nerves running down her spine. She takes a step or two forward and unclasps her hand from Maura's, bringing her arms to wrap around Maura's waist.

Smiling and pulling Maura a little bit closer, she rests their foreheads against one another. "And what exactly are we going to be doing here, Ms. Isles?" she asks in a whisper.

Maura takes a deep breath and smiles sweetly, locking her eyes with Jane's.

Letting her heart drive her words, she begins in a shaky voice, "I've been thinking. And there's something I want us to do before you have to leave…"


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry for not updating in a while. I had to help my grandparents move and some of you may know that it can take a while. Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Enjoy**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Sweet Love **

**WARNING! Chapter rated ****_M_**

"Ms. Rizzoli…"

Maura breathes out blissfully.

Her voice catches in her throat momentarily, only to be released seconds later in a light moan of ecstasy. Jane lifts Maura's hips gently, slanting her body for a better angle at which to thrust their hot, wet centers together once again, the rhythm already catching on.

A week has now passed since the proposition was posed in that abandoned shed.  
Jane was enthralled that Maura would consider, or even want, to do such a thing at this point in their relationship. She still seems so naïve at times, cautiously moving about their kisses with blushing cheeks and shaking hands.

But then again, Maura has a way of surprising herself at times.

Though both wanted to explore in that shed, right as the proposition was made, they held off for the sake of their lack of knowledge.

Even though it was beautifully proposed, neither was prepared to partake in such a thing a mere seven days ago.

Neither was ready. So they held off.

They eased their way into the new realm, slowly and patiently testing things out, carefully stretching the narrow entrance for proper penetration.

And it was odd, to say the least.

Maura had never been more embarrassed nor ever felt as exposed in her entire life as she lied on an old, scratchy wool blanket on the floor of the shed, butt naked with Jane hovering over her.

Jane was slow and careful, hoisting herself up on her arms and politely easing her way down with lazy kisses. She moved with the velocity of a sloth, moving about as if she may break the fragile girl beneath her. She had cautiously moved her hand down in between them to caress one of Maura's thighs.

"Jane," Maura releases in a heavenly sigh, a moan sounding deep in the back of her throat as Jane pulls back and places a kiss on the side of Maura's neck in the right spot and moves her way down to Maura's right breast to suck on the erect peak.

Maura nearly shouts from the pleasure. Her eyes roll toward the back of her head. She's never felt so much pleasure. _So much better than a week ago…_

"Maura, I want you to tell me if you… tell me if I hurt you, alright?" Jane had asked for the near eighth time that day.

"Okay," Maura responded in a curt voice, stiffly nodding her head once in reassurance.  
She was biting her lip anxiously, her body tense as she waited for the strange feeling.

"I don't want you to be in pain," Jane had attempted to explain herself, taking a glance down toward Maura's lower regions, her eyes breaking away from Maura's for a few seconds.

Maura blinked a few times to rid of the nervous tears forming in her eyes. She had never felt like this before, with all of her emotions running on high; part of her eager, part of her nervous as hell, and part of her insanely aroused at the prospect of where this could eventually lead.

Breathing in with a shaky breath, she placed her hands on Jane's thighs and ran the very tips of her fingernails across Jane's skin, receiving little goosebumps rising on the surface as she trailed along.

"I won't be," Maura confirmed, referring to not being in pain. "'Cause you're going to be gentle, Jane, right?"

Jane brought her gaze up Maura's torso until she could lock their vision together. She smiled and bent down from her straddling position to bring her lips to Maura's in a kiss of the softest nature. "So gentle," she hummed against Maura's lips.

Maura tilted her chin upward, placing her lips against Jane's in another gentle kiss for reassurance.  
She closed her eyes and slowly pulled away, her lips stayed parted as her head fell back into a resting position against the blanket.

"Ready?" Jane asked in a whisper.

Maura opened her eyes to find Jane staring back at her with a concerned look. Nodding her head stiffly, she replied quietly, "Go ahead."

Jane waited for several seconds, maybe to gain up enough courage of her own or perhaps to allow Maura a moment to relax. Half a minute elapsed before she scooted her way down a little farther, breaking her eyes away from Maura's as she resituated herself to kneel in between her legs. She glanced down nervously, her eyes quickly darting away as a blush scattered onto the edges of her cheeks.

She swallowed thickly.

Her heart began to beat faster at the realization of what she was about to do.

She moved her eyes to look up at Maura only to find her eyes closed in anxiety, her bottom lip sucked in between her teeth. Her face showed exactly how unrelaxed she was at the time.

Jane focused on Maura's face as she moved her hand to its destination with the utmost care and eased a digit into the teasing heat.

She paused as Maura's eyes shot open, the white showing on all sides of her irises.

"Does it hurt?" Jane asked hesitantly.

Maura didn't move, she merely responded in a catatonic voice, "That feels quite… odd."

"Should I stop?"

"No, no," Maura responded, blinking her eyes and then locking her vision with Jane's. "Keep going."

Maura waited anxiously, attempting to persuade her muscles to relax. She knew being tense would only make it harder on her, and possibly more painful. So she told herself to loosen up. After all, it's only Jane; there's nothing to be afraid of. But the second she got her muscles to unclench she involuntarily tightened around Jane as she curled her finger in Maura's heat. Her eyes widened again.

"What?" Jane asked in a concerned voice, momentarily pausing all her movements.

Maura unclenched her muscles and looked up at Jane, the shock erased from her features as her lips turned into a slightly surprised smile. "I can… I think I can… feel you," she said softly, awestricken and holding back a laugh as Jane curled her index finger once again.

Jane chuckled lightly and lent forward to plant a light kiss to Maura's lips. "You're so tight," she whispered after pulling back and hovering a mere few millimeters away.

Maura blushed at the remark, tightening her muscles in a twinge of pain as Jane submerged a surprise entrance of a second finger. She squirmed about until she was a tad more comfortable, though she remained incredibly awed by the bizarre, foreign feeling.

"Jane?" she asked after a bit.

"Hmm?"

Maura didn't ask her question for a few seconds as she tried to find the best way to phrase her question.  
Her cheeks painted rosy rouge, she asked in a shy voice, "How many of... more are you going to stick in… in there?"

Jane had laughed gently, her teeth shown in the dim light in the shed that afternoon. "I don't know," she replied quietly.

Seeming to be completely serious, Maura had responded honestly, "I don't think many more will fit."

Maura closes her eyes and bites her lip to hold back a laugh as she recalls the remark she made a week before, while Jane thrusts into her gently again, obviously fitting in with unthought-of ease.

"Are you okay?" Jane asks in a soft voice as she places her lips near Maura's ear, looming over her and breathing heavily, her eyes closed as Jane used her thumb to play with Maura sensitive nub. She's lost in the moment and yet she manages to ask the woman below her if she's okay.

Maura nods her head stiffly, moving her hands upward to grip the brown locked woman's shoulders. She digs in her fingers as a sudden pain shoots through her, her nails, which are long overdue for a trim, sink into the skin to leave small, almost puncturing dents.

Her mouth gapes open at the pain, her eyelids fluttering as the pain turns into a sudden rush of pleasure shooting through her body. She shudders against Jane and holds on tighter. "I'm… f-fine," she mumbles, her mouth closing and opening to say more, but no more sounds come out.

"It doesn't hurt too much, does it?"

Maura shakes her head as Jane slides up closer to Maura to kiss her.

Any pain that had existed is quickly overruled.

"No," she whispers in response, a light moan escaping from her vocal cords follows suit, meeting Jane's ears and causing a similar effect in her own body.

Maura ignores the common pain that begins to ache, but now she could care less. She also knows that after a few more times she won't have any more pain since her body would have gotten used to that particular invasion of her body.

She focuses her mind on the arousal running on high in her body as Jane nips her way from Maura's jaw line down to her shoulder. She directs her attention to notice nothing more than the faint tickling sensation that Jane's strands of hair make against her bare skin as they trail along her body as Jane moves.

She closes her eyelids.

Their lips meet in a soft embrace, cradling each other affectionately. Jane sends forth the very tip of her tongue and ever so slightly breaks the seal in between Maura's virgin lips, easing her way through with the edge of her tongue. Granted entrance, she slowly enters, sliding in a little further and exploring every nook and cranny of the cave with deliberate patience and the curiosity of a discoverer.

Jane's left hand had long since left the warmth of Maura's heat and moved up to cradle Maura's cheek. Her right hand planted firmly on the ground next to Maura for balance as she hovers over her, not letting her body squish the smaller woman below her.

Part way through, Jane's greeted by a new companion as Maura cautiously lifts her tongue and curls it around Jane's, entering a dangerous and frightening territory in which she has never before embarked. Though new and inexperienced, she catches on quickly and relaxes into the kiss, allowing her mind to slow as her heart begins to race in the moment.

Maura's heart thumps madly in her chest, beating with the force of a tribal drum, a mallet hitting against dried and stretched animal skin, the sound echoing through the hollow body and reverberating for what seems like miles upon miles. Her heart visibly races behind her ribs, the sweating skin of her chest pulsing with the uneven beats of her heart.

She grabs on tighter, gripping Jane's bare shoulders harder than before, though not with as much pain as previously, and bringing Jane down farther. Now she's holding on in an embrace, wanting nothing more than to get as close as possible.

She shivers in Jane's arms, shuddering from the feeling of a tongue tickling the roof of her mouth unintentionally. She bites down softly on the invader, not enough to hurt, but enough to get some attention.

The kiss deepens in response.

Maura releases a tiny squeal against Jane's mouth, her eyes springing open, as the brown locked woman forces her way back down and into her heat roughly, pushing two digits into Maura's tiny hole without any warning of such brutality. But the pain quickly washes over as the honey blonde focuses all of her senses back into the kiss…

Her eyelids fall shut, the rigidness in her muscles begins to drain.

Her arms wrap around Jane's lean body, her hands running across the flexing muscles, her fingertips tickling the skin under them. She runs her curious hands across the bare skin that she is only given the opportunity to see on occasion.

A strong hand pushes Maura's body back down against the scratchy wool blanket as her lower body involuntarily thrusts up.

The wool blanket scratches at her bare skin as she lies back on the floor, making her itch to move versus lying in the same position.

She shudders suddenly as a pang of arousal shoots through her, making her release the softest of moans into Jane's mouth. Her toes curl into the blanket, picking it up and trapping it in between them as she tenses all the muscles in her body.

Their kiss weakens after Jane has extracted her hand and they begin to twist and turn, their bodies seeming to wrap together like a pretzel. Their legs intertwine, the blanket being swept off the floor and caught in between their kicking limbs in the process.

Their hands and arms hold onto one another tighter than before, their feet move about unconsciously, rubbing up and down each other's legs for more contact. Their breathing quickens, their breaths becoming shallow and short, exiting audibly each time.

Their lips come together for a sad attempt at another kiss, both of them missing as their paces quicken. Soft moans and grunts meet their ears, sounding so foreign despite that they fell from their own lips.

Maura jolts as Jane slips down her body quickly to stick her head between her legs and plunges her tongue straight into her, shocking her more than any other movement has in the past week. A shout of surprise dies in her throat; her widened eyes drooping shut as the feeling of release clicks with her mind and quickly erase any previous feelings of invasion. She wasn't used to this kind of penetration.

She breathes out blissfully.

Her lips break apart, her jaw hanging ajar as her head falls backwards. Maura's mind clutters with a million thoughts running haywire all at one time, mudding up her train of thought. She surrenders her body, letting all involuntary functions kick in and take over.

She zones out, a flash of white followed by blackness take over her vision behind her closed lids. Her breath comes out in a shaky manner, acting in the same way as her occasionally shuddering body.

Time either flies by or slows to an unbearable rate; which one, she's unsure.

Her mouth gapes at the air around her as she encounters a few more flicks of Jane's tongue before she reaches her climax and is given release.

A loud moan reaches her ears and makes her shiver straight down to the bone.

It certainly didn't sound like her voice, but she knows it wasn't Jane's either.

Her mind is fumbled for a few seconds, her vision blocked by unsure colors, her muscles withering to uselessness for several minor seconds while she regains her composure.

She breathes in and out deeply, her heart slowing and steadying.

Her eyelids flutter open, allowing her vision to fall straight on Jane's sweaty face as she makes her way back up Maura's body. Her brown locks are matted, a few strands sticking to her body and the side of her face.

"Are you… are you okay?" Jane asks faintly.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. That was quite… phenomenal, Ms. Rizzoli." Maura responds breathlessly.

* * *

"How are you?" Jane asks the following evening.

Dusk has fallen and the stars are beginning to show themselves in the darkening sky, twinkling with the desire for attention from the wandering eyes of the people on the earth below.

Maura shifts against Jane's body and curls in a little tighter, rolling to her side and bringing her right leg to sprawl over Jane's. She rests her head against Jane's rising and falling chest and closes her eyes.

" 'M tired," she mumbles quietly, her voice barely audible.

Maura shifts again, still unable to find a comfortable position.  
But she relaxes as Jane wraps her arm around Maura's shoulders and pulls her closer.

"I bet," Jane says quietly and places a light, harmless kiss to the top of Maura's head. Pulling away, she smoothes down a few stray pieces of honey blonde hair before tucking Maura's head beneath her chin.

She lets out a satisfied sigh and relaxes as she allows her eyes to look up at the night sky, her vision falling on the shining stars. She smiles faintly and pulls Maura a little closer as a cool breeze kisses the uncovered parts of their bodies with its evening chill.

They're outside the Isles household, lying with one another in the backyard. Despite the close proximity to the house they still curl around each other in ways that are far more than friendly between two women in such a time period. But they're together, hidden in the shadows drooping down on the luscious grass, as alone as they can be at the time being.

Though don't be silly, they wouldn't try anything out in the open and so exposed to the rest of the world.

Their clothes are remaining intact, their lips remain far apart, and the closest they're getting is a caring embrace between two women who want nothing more than to share their love with the world.

But they can't.

At least not with this world they can't. Majority would not understand, and in the eyes of that majority such a love is a scandal. It's something that should always remain a rumor and never get any further than one's imagination. Such a love to most of them is sinful; something that's only heard of in old wise tales.

Maura hates it. She always feels so out of place in this time, living and interacting with people who will never truly understand the real her, the person she hides from the rest of the world, the person she dwells as in private. No matter how far she pushes her outer-self to act like others want her to, it never matches up with who she is on the inside.

She can put on a dress and go to school and look at the handsome boys with appreciation like the rest of the girls her age. But it's different with her.

It's a shell, only shown to please others.

She can smile a coy, almost flirtatious smile at the boys, and anyone would find her interested in the certain gentleman she happened to lay her eyes on, but to her it's nothing more than a smile. To her, there are no raging emotions or skipping heartbeats behind that smile.

No… the only time there are raging emotions and skipping heartbeats and sweaty hands coming along with one of those smiles is when it's directed at Jane. And how cruel fate has been, that she's fallen for a woman from a different time. Ill-fated, star-crossed, call it what you wish, but they're separated by 100 years and connected by a measly water pump that mysteriously doubles as some sort of time portal, if you wish to call it that.

To be together seems like a simple concept.

And it should be.

Maura should be able to run off and join Jane in the future, live with her happily and freely. She'd no longer be a social outcast for her feelings, or at least, not as much so as back home. They'd live a life of freedom, together. Free to do as they wish, and free to love, as they desire.

But… Maura belongs in 1900, doesn't she?

She can't imagine calling the 21st century her home, it's far too bizarre with its crazy clothing and buildings and racing cars and… and… all those silly gadgets that magically light up with the flick of a switch and respond to the touch of your finger. And how exactly do they fit all those voices and instruments into those silly little ear buds… or are they in that little device that Jane called an iPod? Or those moving pictures… all those tiny people can't possibly live in all those boxes!

It's all so fascinating to Maura, majority of the stuff she's never even heard of before. Though of course some of those items were already being invented during the late 1800s and early 1900s, the differences between when things, like cars, first came out and what they look like in 2008 are quite different.

Maura can travel to the 21st century (how it works, still no one knows) time after time, and yet it still feels utterly foreign to her. No matter how much knowledge she gains of the new age devices, she still stumbles around without a clue in her mind at times.

It never feels like a place she will call home.  
Though, she wishes that someday soon she will.

"Maur, you still awake?" Jane asks in a very soft voice, apparently expecting to find Maura passed out.

But Maura stirs and opens her eyes from her thoughts, twisting to look up at Jane's face. She smiles a tired, lazy grin and attempts to stretch in her confined space.

"I'm still awake, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura responds quietly.

Jane laughs gently and cuddles Maura a little closer as a shiver runs down her spine from the nipping breeze. "Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks skeptically, wondering why Maura continues to insist on calling her by her surname.

"Mm," Maura replies through a tiny laugh and buries her head farther against Jane's chest; her eyes still sealed shut as she curls her body closer. Her hands are curled inward toward her own chest, though resting against Jane's side. She swallows and licks her lips tiredly, readjusting the position of her head yet again. Yawning, she corrects herself by saying, "Jane."

Jane smiles and rubs her hand in small circles on Maura's shoulder, hugging her tightly as she sneaks a look up at the almost completely dark sky. The light has seemed to vanish, leaving the sky as a dark navy with little sparkling sequins of stars filling every spot that needs to be lit. The moon is on its way to being full, rounding and fooling the naked eye to be a full moon, though it's still a few mere days early to be given such a title. It lights the late evening and looks down upon the earth with its precarious face.

"Must you leave this summer, Jane?" Maura asks softly, her voice startling Jane slightly.

The brown locked woman turns her eyes away from the starry night to look down at the now open eyes of the woman in her arms. She smiles uneasily.

"I'll visit."

"Will you?"

Jane rolls her lower lip in between her teeth. She replies quietly, "I'll try."

Maura sighs, but she manages to smile softly. "I wish I could—" she begins and cuts off sharply as a stinging voice meets both of their ears with its cursing shrill.

"Maura Dorthea! Maura Dorthea, are you out there?"

Maura stiffens as her mother's voice carries through the backyard. Her eyes meet Jane's and they share a disappointed stare.

"Maura Dorthea?"

Jane nods at Maura, as if to tell her it's okay; answer her.

Maura sighs inaudibly and shifts from her resting position to sit upright. She turns her head toward the house and sees her mother's figure outlined by a dim light just inside the back door.

"Maura Dorthea, your father said he saw you rush out here—"

"Yes, Mother, I'm here," Maura calls back.

"Oh, good heavens, Maura Dorthea," she responds and clearly turns toward the direction of her daughter's voice, but her eyesight is quite poor in the lack of light. All she can make out are the mysterious, looming shadows of trees. "What are you doing out there at this time of the night? And you have school tomorrow, so hurry it up and come inside, I don't need your teacher getting on my case again about you drooping off during class—"

"OK, Mother, I'm coming!" Maura yells back much louder than necessary, not even bothering to hide her annoyance.

Her mother begins grumbling about something, but she turns her direction back toward Jane.

"I guess this is goodbye for now, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks quietly, keeping her voice as a dropped whisper.

Jane smiles and reaches her right hand forward, tucking a few stray strands of honey blonde hair behind Maura's ear. "You and your proper goodbyes," she responds with a light laugh.

"Well, what else would I say?"

"Not say, do."

Maura shakes her head humoredly, but asks, "Fine, what would I do, Jane?"

Jane stares at her intently for a few silent moments, her head slightly tilted to the side as she sucks in her bottom lip. Smiling mischievously, she replies simply, "Kiss me."

Maura opens her mouth to disagree; such a goodbye would not be appropriate, would it?  
But before she can speak, her lips are caught by another's in a gentle, passionate kiss.

It's short and simple, directly to the point.

It ends as quickly as it began, and Maura finds herself staring back at Jane with a hanging jaw, her breath stolen from her lungs.

"Maura Dorthea, I thought you were coming?"

Usually she would cringe at the reminder of her mother's strict tone, but she continues smiling at Jane with a goofy, lopsided grin. She stumbles to her feet and points back at her house with her thumb, continuing to stare at the beautiful brown locked woman still sitting on the ground. "I… I should go," she whispers breathlessly.

Jane merely nods and smiles gently.

Maura begins to walk toward her house, refusing to turn and look where's she going as she backs away from her love.

Jane mouths the words _I love you_ to Maura, her exaggeratedly pronounced words quite obvious for Maura to make out, despite the lack of light.

An _I love you, too_ follows immediately.

Maura smiles one last time before turning on her heels and scurrying the rest of the way to the backdoor at the sound of her mother clearing her throat impatiently. She slows as she ascends the couple of steps leading to the back door and she squeezes into the house past her mother.

"What were you doing out there?" she asks curiously, closing the door behind her daughter.

"Oh, just… stargazing."

"Stargazing?" Her mother laughs wholeheartedly and shakes her head, placing her hand on her daughter's back to lead her further into the house. "Well, it's getting chilly out there. I wouldn't want you catching a cold."

"Mother, please," Maura says with a short laugh.

"Maura Dorthea, I'm your mother, it's my job to worry every now and then."

"But you worry too often, Mother."

"Well, then I must be doing my job fairly well, mustn't I?" she asks with a smile. "Now, go wash up and head to bed, it's late." She pats her daughter on the back when they reach the bottom of the staircase leading upstairs, giving her a little push to head up toward bed.

"Okay, okay, goodnight, Mother," Maura says softly.

Entering her bedroom she closes the door behind her and walks over toward her window. She looks down at the backyard and stares at every moving shadow to see if Jane is still there or if she's already gone home.

But as a minute passes, Maura assumes that Jane has already left from their hiding spot in the shadows, and she turns away from the window.

Her vision falls on her darkened room, only lit by the faint moonlight.

She moves her eyes from object to object and stills as she looks across from her at her bed. But she's not longing for sleep or even looking at the top of the bed. Instead, her eyes linger on the small space between the sagging mattress and the wood floor.

She rushes over to her bed and falls to her knees, immediately ducking down to peek underneath her bed.  
She lifts the edge of her bed sheets and peers at the uncovered area.

Smiling softly, she reaches her free hand forward and grasps onto the object hidden below her bed, kept secret from anyone walking into her room.

She releases the bed sheets and kicks off her shoes before climbing on top of her mattress. She scoots until she's tucked up in the corner, hugged between her pillow and the wall in a fairly comfortable position. She brings her knees toward her chest and hugs the object from beneath her bed a little tighter.

It's the old, scratchy wool blanket from the day before.

She buries her nose deep into a fold in the material and breathes in deeply.

The bitter scent tickles her nostrils and she breathes out happily, closing her eyes as she hugs the blanket in the same manner that a child hugs a teddy bear late into the night, hugging the replacement for the protection and love they're currently unable to receive from human contact. It's the next best thing.

Maura breathes in again and sinks into her pillow, slowly falling farther and farther away from the wall and into a resting position on her side versus staying upright in that corner.

A smile graces her features as she breathes out.

The different scents linger and play with her senses, both pushing her toward and pulling her away from sleep simultaneously.

The blanket has a certain scent that will always remind her of their special encounter from the day before, a time that she will never forget.

But it's not the distinct, tangy scents from the day before that make her smile like this.  
It's not those smells that persuaded her to hold onto the blanket and stuff it beneath her bed for nights like these.

It's that one scent that's mixed in with all the others, hidden and yet bold at the same time.

It's a scent that clogs her entire air passageways and clings on tight as it rejuvenates her awareness, even from the deadliest of sleeps.

It's that one unmistakable scent that her senses have learned to love over the past months.

It's the undeniable scent of Jane.

Maura hugs the blanket tighter as she drifts into a heavy sleep.

* * *

**Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Sorry if it wasn't very good. I'm not very experienced in writing this kind of stuff. Please leave comments and reviews and tell me what you thought. And please, stay with me on this story. I am far from being finished. **


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: A Carnival & Teddy Bears **

"Jane, come on, where are we going?" Maura asks apprehensively, raising her voice over the booming music blasting from the speakers and grabbing hold of the armrests as Jane makes a sharp turn. The tires screech in emphasis, causing Maura to tighten her grip and bite the inside of her cheek in slight horror. "Jane, slow down."

Jane holds back a laugh, but complies and slows down a smidge below the speed limit after she catches a glimpse of Maura out of the corner of her eye. The poor woman was holding on to every ledge and ridge around her, her knuckles turning white.

"You've honestly never ridden in a car before?" Jane asks, disregarding Maura's previous question.  
She reaches out a hand and turns down the volume of the radio a few notches.

"Never," Maura replies curtly and sits up straighter, her back flat against the seat. She opens her mouth to explain further, but instead holds her breath before yelling at Jane with wide eyes, "Jane! I thought you said the yellow light means slow down!"

Jane laughs this time, failing at holding back her laughter. She turns her head for a split second only to see Maura smashed against the seat like she's practically held there by some unseen force.

"Not when you're that close to the intersection. We would've missed the light if I slowed down," Jane explains like she's teaching someone the truths behind driving. She places her eyes back on the road and slows the car as they reach a lane of backed up traffic. She sighs and turns to face Maura. "Maura," she begins with a smile and chuckle, "Chill, you're acting like you're going to die."

Maura meets Jane's eyes and loosens her muscles a smidge, relaxing into the seat as she undoes her grip on the inside ledge of the car door and the armrest on her other side. "The way you were driving, Ms. Rizzoli, I actually could have died," Maura says in a monotone voice, obviously not at all enthused by this fast transportation.

"Maura, just relax," Jane says with another short laugh. She squeezes Maura's knee reassuringly before adding on, "I'm not that bad of a driver."

"Good lord, that's where I beg to differ," Maura responds in a humored voice. She shifts in her seat and adjusts the seatbelt so it's no longer digging into her neck uncomfortably. She forces herself to calm as they inch their way through the backed up "rush-hour traffic," as Jane had called it a few minutes before. "So where is it we're going today, Jane?"

"Hmm?" Jane asks as she directs her eyes off of the intriguingly witty bumper sticker on the car in front of them. "Oh, uh, I was thinking about taking you to the fair. It's open for the start of summer."

Maura furrows her brow lightly. "Fair? Like, for trading?"

"No, not that kind of fair," Jane corrects Maura with yet another soft laugh. "You know, a fair, like a carnival or festival or funfair or whatever the hell you want to call it."

"Oh," Maura says, her voice showing realization as she glances out the side window at the slow moving traffic. "Is today a holiday?"

"Not in this country. Why?"

"Well, you said we're going to a carnival… Aren't carnivals usually for celebrating holidays or something?"

"Not nowadays, Maur," Jane replies with a friendly laugh. "It's just the annual carnival. It's fun."

* * *

"Oh, it feels good to be out of that death contraption," Maura mutters as she stumbles over the untied shoelace of her 21st century tennis shoes. Those are taking some time to get used to, surprisingly.

"It's not a death contraption," Jane replies, shutting her car door and hitting the button on the keychain remote to lock up the vehicle.

Maura jumps at the squawking beep and sends a soft glare at the car next to her before joining Jane.

"Fine, but those things are odd," Maura states and falls into step with Jane, walking away from the car and through the grassy, makeshift parking lot toward the fairgrounds in the distance.

Jane sighs and grabs hold of Maura's hand after accidentally bumping into it with her own a few times. She laces their fingers together into a familiar maze and says softly, "You'll get used to them." _Especially if you're ever going to live here_, Jane adds on silently in her mind.

Wishful thinking.

They make their way into the fairgrounds after a small fee and hand stamps for two. Shortly after entering the gates they come to a stop, side by side.

"Ms. Rizzoli?"

They turn to face one another.

Jane rolls her eyes at the use of her last name once again, but manages to smile softly. "Yes?"

Maura clears her throat and glances around them before continuing. "What is it exactly that you do at carnivals nowadays?"

Her mind swirls as she looks around a second time, her head swarming in the flashing, moving lights and gamut of sounds coming from different attractions and meeting her ears with the laughter and conversations of different couples and families walking past them.

She locks her eyes back with Jane's as she hears the familiar pitch of laughter escaping Jane's lips.

"Anything and everything," Jane supplies vaguely, squeezing Maura's hands in her own. "Where do you want to start?"

Maura's eyes widen slightly and she snorts at such a question.  
As if Maura would have any idea as to where to start in such a place.  
What a joke.

"You choose," Maura replies as she looks to their left at one of the temporary rides and then to a Ferris wheel standing high in the distance.

Jane smiles and nods her head in compliance, already turning on her heels and pulling Maura alongside her. However, Maura pauses as her eyes fall on one of the rides not too far away.

"What?" Jane asks, trying to follow Maura's vision, but failing at finding the cause of her wide eyes.

"I don't care what… rides, or what not, you take me on," Maura begins and swallows thickly as her eyes stay locked on the one ride. "But nothing _fast_."

Jane can't hold back her laughter.

* * *

"You won't even go on the spinning tea cups?" Jane asks as she and Maura weave their way between other walking couples, people walking slower as the sky begins turning darker.

Maura turns her head and stares at Jane with one slightly quirked eyebrow. "Ride in… teacups, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"Well, large… teacups," Jane corrects with a laugh, realizing the insanity of such a proposal to someone who's never even heard of such a thing. It probably sounds far beyond crazy. "See, they're right over there," Jane says and points to the ride they're slowly approaching.

Maura stops in her tracks and stares ahead, her jaw hanging open a smidge. She snorts and shakes her head after watching the ridiculous event for several seconds. "Jane, I'm sorry," she begins in an almost astonished tone, "but I will not ride in an oversized teacup that spins like a… like a spinning top toy!"

"Okay, okay, we'll keep walking," Jane replies with a short laugh and places her hand on the small of Maura's back to guide her through the crowds.

"What's that?" Maura asks and comes to a stop in front of one of the not so crowded attractions. It's a fairly large building with a brightly lit sign. Not to mention, it's quite shiny, too.

"Oh, that?" Jane says in a bummed tone, her voice not incredibly enthused by the idea of going in there. "It's just the house of mirrors."

Jane goes to keep walking, but Maura stays still, her eyes lingering on the attraction in front of them. Her eyes run over the flashing sign and fall on the mirrors below, the lights shimmering off of her eyes.

"What?" Jane asks, noticing the slight awe in Maura's glimmering eyes.

Maura turns her head to meet Jane's gaze momentarily, a small smile gracing her lips. "Can we go in?" she asks softly.

Jane sighs and toes the ground with the tatty toe of her shoe. "Fine," she agrees and leads the way into the reflective house.

Maura doesn't notice Jane leading the way in until she catches sight of Jane's back disappearing into the house. She scampers after her quickly, almost tripping over her own two feet in those silly 21st century sneakers.

She enters the house of the mirrors and bounces backwards as she almost immediately runs into one of the mirrors head-on.

"Jane?" she calls out as she rubs her forehead gingerly, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment even though no one witnessed her moment of humility. "Jane, what am I supposed to do in here?" she calls out, not daring to move another inch until she gets a response.

"Find your way out," Jane's voice echoes back.

Maura turns to find the direction of Jane's voice, but she only ends up seeing a hundred reflections of herself in all directions. She makes another circle, but still only receives the reflections of her bewildered face on all sides, no matter what way she turns.

"Jane?" Maura squeaks out and places her hand out in front of her, allowing her to make it a little farther forward than before. "Jane, where are you?"

"Follow my voice."

"How am I supposed to get to you?" Maura asks and stumbles into another mirror, despite her outstretched hand. She tries to make her way forward again and bounces back, releasing a muffled, "Ow," in the process.

Jane's laughter reaches her ears. "Maura, you're not supposed to walk into the mirrors," she says in a matter-of-fact voice, pointing out the obvious.

"I'm not an idiot, Jane," Maura snaps back and manages to make it through another small set of mirrors before walking head-on into another one. "But how are you supposed to find your way out of these? It's like an impossible maze!"

Again Jane's laughter meets her ears, but this time a word of advice follows. "Follow the ground," Jane advises Maura, giving her a hint on how to make it through this reflective maze.

_The ground?_ Maura questions silently, not seeing entirely how that could help. But she complies and follows the advice, bowing her head to look at the ground as she continues her way through the mirrors.

It works.

She doesn't raise her head again until she bumps into someone.

"Oh, excuse me, I'm sorry," she says quickly and snaps her head up to apologize further only to come face to face with Jane. "Jane!" She nearly squeals in relief and wraps her arms around the brown locked woman's back in a tight embrace, burying her head in the safety nook of Jane's neck.

"Hey, you found me, and all in one piece," Jane says with a laugh, returning the hug by placing her arms around Maura's waist. She holds on tightly and plants a light kiss to the top of Maura's shimmering honey blonde hair.

Jane sighs and sways slightly with Maura in her arms, waiting until she can feel the racing heart resting against her chest slow down to match the beating of her own. She slowly raises her head and her heart quickens at the sight she sees reflected around her.

Looking straight into the mirror in front of her, she is able to see hundreds of reflections of a brown locked woman affectionately holding a beautiful, yet frightened, angelic woman in her arms. The reflections seem to cast on to infinity, repeating endlessly and reflecting the images from the mirrors opposite them.

She never knew or even imagined what they look like with one another.

A smile crawls onto her lips as a wave of profound love washes through her body.

"Maura," Jane says softly and gently nudges Maura's head with her chin. "Look up."

Jane watches in the mirrors as Maura hesitantly complies, slowing lifting her head from the protection of Jane's chest. She watches as Maura's eyelids cautiously open and she blinks a few times, allowing her pupils to adjust to the light before she can catch a glimpse of the wonder Jane wants her to see.

Her hazel eyes fall on her reflection in the mirror to her side, showing the image of a honey blonde woman with a slightly troubled face clutching onto a woman with fitted clothes and brown locks. Their hold is that of lovers versus that of a gentle embrace between friends or relatives.

And the look in their eyes…

The look gives away the depth of their relationship, revealing to the naked eye their love and the troubles and expectations they battle, especially those during Maura's time.

Maura raises her eyes to meet Jane's in the reflection.

The look in Jane's eyes is intense with passion and directed at Maura alone and nothing else. The intensity is more than enough to make Maura's insides quiver upon seeing so much love in that reflection. It seems as if she's neglected to acknowledge the look in Jane's eyes before this day, previously seeing that spark as nothing more than curiosity and lust. But, no, there's more to that spark than she's chosen to see in the past.

Jane smiles softly as she catches Maura's eyes in the mirror, and she shifts slightly under the stare, darting her eyes away to look at a reflection on the other side. But in the reflection she's able to see Maura lifting her head further to look at Jane, expectantly waiting for the brown locked woman to turn her head back to look at her. Jane complies.

Turning and immediately catching sight of a growing grin on Maura's face, Jane asks with a nervous laugh, "What are you smiling at?"

"You," Maura replies simply and honestly.

Without another said word and finding it a prime moment for such an encounter, their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It's soft and chaste, nothing more than a sacred kiss stolen around the corner.

Pulling away with half lidded eyes, Jane says softly, "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Though, their actual exit from the fairgrounds did not come for a near hour after that kiss in the house of mirrors, shared between the two women and hundreds of their reflections. And, of course, a fair would not be a fair without cotton candy or even a ride on the carousel, both of which Maura enjoyed more than she expected she would. Not to forget one romantic time through the tunnel of love and an embarrassing game of knocking over milk bottles with a sort of softball. But as embarrassing as that game may have been, Jane did walk away successfully with a plush blue teddy bear for Maura.

And now with the sky the color of black licorice and spotted with a million tiny sparkling stars, the crowds have died down and majority of the rides and attractions are calling for the final ride before closing. Maura and Jane are following the growing procession out of the fairgrounds and toward the makeshift parking lot on the grassy field outside the gates.

The tired women make their way to the car hand in hand, lazily stumbling over the gravel pathway. They get into the vehicle quickly and quietly; both of them imagining the rewards of their beds back at home.

After waiting in a line of cars to leave the fairgrounds area, Jane pulls out onto the main road and drives into the night. And this time Maura isn't holding onto the armrest for dear life. Instead she's relaxed in the passenger's seat with her head putting the headrest to good use as she wearily drifts off into a slight slumber, half awake and half asleep.

The ride is near silent. The radio is off. The only noise is the muffled hum of the engine as they drive back towards Jane's house, a good half an hour away.

Hearing a tired sigh from the other side of the car and realizing that Maura isn't out cold; Jane asks in a soft voice, "So, did you have fun?"

She darts her eyes off the road momentarily to steal a glance of Maura shifting in her seat in the same manner as rolling in a bed.

"Mmhmm," Maura hums gently, adjusting the seatbelt around her shoulder. "It was fun."

The vehicle returns to silence, filled with nothing more than the remaining background hum of the car and Maura's shortening breaths.

But there's been something on Jane's mind for the past few months. It's been troubling her not only when she's awake, but also as she's trying to sleep. And it's something she wants to get off her conscience before she leaves for her summer trip at her grandparents' house.

"Hey, Maura?" she asks softly, waiting for the tired woman in the passenger's seat to make some sort of movement to reveal that she's listening and at least semi-awake. "Maur?" She asks again.

"Yeah, uh, what?" Maura asks quickly, jumping at the mention of her name. She sits up straighter in her seat and blinks in the darkness, forgetting where she is for a split moment. Swallowing to moisten her mouth, she turns and glances at Jane with tired eyes. "What?"

"There's… there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about," Jane says in an uncomfortable voice, obviously very hesitant to bring up whatever topic she's attempting to bring to the surface.

"Okay, go ahead," Maura says and relaxes in her seat again, her eyelids naturally falling shut beneath the sudden fatigue plaguing her entire body. After a minute has passed and Jane hasn't spoken, Maura adds on humoredly, "You can talk, I'm still listening."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jane says and shakes her head to bring herself from her thoughts. "It's just… I've been thinking, and you know… a couple months ago when you were at my house and my mom showed you… that book thing?"

Maura doesn't respond.

"You know," Jane begins with a sigh, hating to describe everything, "That binder thing that she pulled out with photographs of you and your family and then… there were these… dates of birth and—"

"Jane, I know what you're talking about, you don't have to reiterate the entire book, okay?" Maura asks in a snappy voice, wide-awake by now.

"Oh," Jane replies lamely and steals a glance to her side only to see Maura sitting there with her eyes wide open and a glare forming on her brow.

There's silence for a few moments before Maura asks in an irritated voice, "What about it, Jane?" Her voice is cold.

"I just…" Jane trails off, unable to find the correct way of matching her words together to form a complete sentence. "It's about what you read—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Maura," Jane begins, swallowing thickly before she continues, "I think there's something you should know—"

"Jane!" Maura nearly shouts through gritted teeth. "I _said_ I don't want to talk about it."

Jane takes her eyes off the road momentarily and looks at Maura with disbelief in her eyes, unable to find a reason as to why Maura wouldn't want to know the information she's about to tell her, but she complies. "Fine." _But you're not going to die_, she adds on in her mind, wishing she had the nerve to just let it slip.

"Good."

Again, the car is overridden by silence besides the sounds of Maura shifting in her seat.

And again, Jane breaks it.

"You don't even want to know why we had a book full of photographs and dates of you and your family? You're not even a tad curious as to why?" Jane dares to ask, posing a sort of challenge with the attitude in her voice.

There's a pause before Maura finds the courage to fight back with full force.

"Why, Jane? What? Are you my great-granddaughter or something like that? Is that it?" Maura yells back, turning in her seat to look at Jane. She really does not want to talk about this right now. She had managed to nearly forget about that book and the horrid content of which it holds. And now Jane had to bring up the past and spoil the entire night. "Is that why you have the book, Jane? Am I your great-grandmother?"

"Actually," Jane says in a serious voice, "my great-grandfather is James."

"Oh, splendid!" Maura says and throws her arms into the air in exasperation, directing her attention out the window. "Brilliant, I'm in love with my brother's great-grandson," Maura adds on in a sardonic whisper.

"It doesn't matter, it's not like we're that closely related," Jane mutters beneath her breath. She's long over the fact that they're somewhat related, by name and not by blood. One thing she's glad of though is that she never was related to Maura by blood, but it doesn't even seem like an issue at this point in time.

"Oh, it's still marvelous to know," Maura replies sarcastically. Sighing heavily, she leans her forehead against the cold window and stares off into the distance at the passing scenery of darkness. "As if I wasn't already screwed up enough as it is," she adds on softly, tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

"Maura, you're not screwed up."

"You're the only one who seems to think I'm not, Jane," Maura replies bitterly. She swipes her fingers across her dampening eyes and breathes in deeply.

Jane reaches across the space in between them and grabs Maura's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together caringly.  
"You're not," Jane says again and squeezes Maura's hand reassuringly.

Maura sighs. "Jane, take a step into my life and try saying that. It's not so easy."

"Maura, come on, you're not screwed up," Jane says again. "So what if we may share some of the same relatives? But it's not like we're blood related. You're adopted, remember? Maybe we—"

"And that's just the icing to the cake, Ms. Rizzoli!" Maura interrupts in a sour tone. She takes a moment to calm herself down before continuing quietly. "I'm a mess, Jane. My own parents call me a walking train wreck. I've never been attracted to boys; my mother is expecting me to marry some man that I still barely know. And I like girls, Jane. Maybe that's not a big deal nowadays, but to my parents and even to my town, it's like the sin above all sins. And now I find out that the girl I'm in love with is related to me. How much more screwed up can I get, Jane? Honestly!"

Jane doesn't respond immediately. She's silent and she remains silent, lost in her own thoughts for the following minutes.

Maura calms down on her own, breathing in and out deeply until her nerves and anger level out to normal and her heart has slowed down.

"I visited the cemetery a couple months ago," Jane states after a few minutes, never daring to take her eyes off the road in front of her as she speaks. .She can sense Maura stiffen in the seat next to her, obviously reacting to the words.

"W-what does that have to do with anything?" Maura asks in a shaky voice, raising her head from the chilled window to look over at Jane.

Jane takes her time responding. "I-I… I visited your… grave."

"Nice to know I'll have some visitors in the future," Maura mutters and lets go of Jane's hand.

"Maur," Jane says, shaking her head. "I'm trying to tell you something about your de—"

"Jane," Maura warns, "I already told you—"

"Maura, just let me finish!" Jane interrupts her in a harsh voice, causing Maura to zip her mouth, sit back, and listen to whatever it is that Jane has to say. "I know you don't want to hear about that or even remotely think about that date. I can only imagine how hard it is to live with that date floating around in your he—"

"Jane… stop, please," Maura nearly begs. Her voice is on the verge of tears as she interrupts Jane once again. She adds on quietly, "I had almost forgotten about that date and now you come and b—"

"You're not going to die."

Jane breathes in sharply. Apparently the tears have already come.

She looks over at Jane, her jaw opening and closing, unable to decide whether to speak or not.

She eventually settles on speaking.

"Jane, just stop with your stupid promises," Maura says in a cracking voice. "I know you said you'll protect me from everything, but you can't save me from something like this. The date is set in stone, you said so yourself. You visited _my grave_, Jane."

"But, Maura, the date is wrong."

"How can the date be wrong, Jane? I saw it, you saw it, it's carved into a stupid stone…"

"Maura," Jane says and takes hold of Maura's shaking hand again, "you're not going to die on that date. It's just a stupid stone in that cemetery with an estimated date carved into it. It's a guess, Maura. Your family didn't know if you were dead or not…"

There's a moment of silence before Maura has enough courage to speak.

"Then what happened to me?" she asks in a cautious voice, grabbing onto Jane's hand with both of hers.

"You disappeared."

Maura releases a heavy sigh. "Great," she mumbles sarcastically.

"Hey, Maura, this is a good thing," Jane corrects her with a laugh, squeezing her hands reassuringly.

"Yeah, so I don't necessarily die, I just… disappear," Maura restates. "But where to? I mean, where on earth could I possibly run off to?"

"Well, you could come live in the fu—" Jane begins speaking, but too quietly to be heard amongst Maura's vent of questions.

"And what are you going to try telling me now, that I was abducted by aliens?" Maura asks, continuing her questions from before and completely talking overtop of what Jane was trying to suggest.

However, Jane merely laughs wholeheartedly. "I wouldn't rule out that option. E.T. might like you."

"Who?" Maura asks in a confused voice.

"Forget it," Jane replies with a laugh.

Maura shrugs it off as another bit of confusion due to the century gap between them and breathes out deeply as she relaxes into the passenger's seat. She lets her heart and thoughts calm as she traces hwe fingers across Jane's free hand. And in her relaxation, something dawns on her…

"So I'm not going to die next year?" Maura asks amidst the silence in the car.

Jane smiles in the darkness and squeezes Maura's hands again. "No, definitely not next year. You'll be safe, I'll make sure of it," Jane promises Maura in an honest voice.

"Hmm," Maura hums in a happy response and smiles softly. She allows her eyelids to drift shut for the remainder of the car ride back to Jane's house. And at some point, not too long after the last spoken word, she says softly, "I always thought your eyes looked like James'."

* * *

"Maura!" James' young voice squeals his sister's name as he bursts into her bedroom early the next morning. The sun is still fairly low in the sky, just snaking around the rounded edge of the earth to sneak in through people's windows and call it morning. Though in most cases majority of the people are still asleep when the sun is this low on a Saturday morning, there are always certain exceptions.

"Maura, come on, time to wake up!" James says a tad louder and leans closer to his sister's ear to awaken her.

The best answer he receives is a tired moan as the body under the bed sheets and quilts rolls onto its other side and faces the wall in a pitiful escape of the brutal noise and light.

James sighs and shakes the body with all his force, making the mattress springs creak beneath the movements. But his older sister remains asleep; obviously warn out from whatever events happened on the previous night.

"Maura, Maura, Maura, wake up, wake up, wake up!" James chants directly into his sister's ear.

But it's no use.

"Golly, Maura, are you dead?" he asks and backs away from the bed a couple inches.

"Not dead," a voice mumbles from beneath the blankets. "Jus' tired."

The younger boy rolls his eyes and walks back to the bed, and this time he pulls at the bed sheets. However, his older sister is too fast for that one and the sheets stay exactly where they were.

"Gosh, what did Jane do with you last night that you're this tired?" James asks, remembering that Maura had said something the day before about going over to whatever town it is where Jane lives. "Were you two wrestling again, or something?"

A head with two sleepy eyes peaks out from beneath the edge of the blankets.

"No."

"Oh," James says, though he doesn't completely believe his sister. He's been having trust issues with her ever since that day a few weeks ago when he had seen them kissing in the forest and Maura wouldn't admit to it. James hates being lied to, especially by his own sister. It hurts, but he shrugs it off.

Giving up on trying to pull his older sister out of the bed, James begins walking toward the door. "By the way, Mother said that if I can't get you up that she'll come in here and do it herself."

Maura scrambles out of her bed immediately, throwing the bed sheets toward the foot of the bed, and swings her feet over the edge to meet with the floor.

"I'm up, I'm up," she says in a tired voice, apparently nowhere near complete consciousness. But close enough.

"Good," James says with a smile and turns to walk out of Maura's bedroom as his eyes catch site of an unfamiliar object lying discarded near Maura's pillow. He furrows his brow gently. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Maura asks as she rises from her bed.

James walks back into the bedroom completely and cocks his head to the side as he points at the object near Maura's limp pillow. "That?" he states with an outstretched index finger.

Maura laughs softly as she pulls out a clean dress. "James, you know what that is. It's a teddy bear. Mother and Father got you one for Christmas a year ago, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," James replies and walks over toward his sister's bed. He picks up the foreign object and stares at it with critical eyes. "But mine isn't blue. What kind of teddy bear is blue?" He looks from the bear up at his sister curiously.

Maura shrugs, a habit that she's picked up from Jane over the past several months. "I don't know, James, maybe one based off a blue bear?" Maura asks with a tiny laugh.

"Maura, there's no such thing as a _blue_ bear," James responds in a quite intelligent voice for an eight-year-old child. "There are black bears. That's why my teddy bear has _black_ fur; not _blue_."

"Okay, okay, James, I was only joshing you," Maura says with yet another chuckle.

"Where do they even make teddy bears with blue fur?" James asks, more to himself than anyone else as he returns to inspecting the stuffed animal in his hands. He bops it on the nose and creases his brow at the bright blue fur. "It's quite… odd looking, isn't it?"

Maura sighs at James' curiosity, but she responds nonetheless. "I guess."

"Where'd you get it?" the younger boy asks curiously. "I've never seen one like it in any of the stores Mother takes us to."

"Uh," Maura begins, "Jane got it for me."

"Oh," James says quietly and places the animal back on Maura's bed, leaving it exactly where he found it next to his sister's crushed pillow. Turning around to face his sister he asks with the same curiosity, "Where would Jane find something like that? I've never even heard of anyone selling a stuffed animal with blue fur."

Maura shakes her head and walks over behind her younger brother to reach her bed. She pulls the sheets from the foot of the mattress and begins straightening them back up toward the pillow. "I don't know," she replies in the process. "You'll have to ask Jane sometime."

"Fine," James says and walks away from the bed and toward his sister's desk, where another foreign object has caught his eye. It's a glossy strip of paper, perhaps the width and length of a ruler. Curious, he picks it off the top of the desk and holds it closer to his face. "What's this?"

Maura sighs and tucks the edge of the blankets under the mattress before glancing over her shoulder at her brother.

Her eyes widen as she sees what James is holding in his hands.

Within two seconds Maura is standing next to her brother on the other side of the room with the strip of paper in her own hands. She presses it flat against her chest, completely hiding the front of it away from James' wandering eyes so the only thing the younger boy can see is the plain white backside of the strip.

"What is it?" James asks again, his curiosity automatically growing at Maura's hectic reaction.

"What?" Maura asks and darts her eyes around the room, all the while her cheeks are heating up in slight embarrassment. "It's nothing."

"Maura, I'm not that stupid," James replies and reaches up to grab the slip of paper.

But Maura pulls it away quickly.

James smiles as Maura frantically shoves the strip of paper into one of the drawers of the desk and slams it shut as quickly as possible. She stands against the drawer so her brother can't get to it.

"What was that?" James asks again, seeing if he can persuade Maura to tell him. "It looked like pictures of you and Jane."

Maura's cheeks darken by three shades of scarlet as her blush thickens. Of course, James had held onto that strip of paper long enough to recognize it as photographs, despite how much Maura was hoping she had caught him in time.

"I _said_ it was nothing," Maura replies through gritted teeth, her hands gripping onto the edge of the desk to control her irritation.

"You're turning red, Maura."

"James!" Maura yells back and sends her younger brother a glare. James merely giggles at the reaction he's able to pull out of his sister, and he smiles innocently. "James, get out!"

James giggles his young, eight-year-old laugh once more and obeys his sister's wishes. "Fine, fine, I'm leaving," he says and scampers out of the room with his laughter echoing behind him.

Maura releases a heavy sigh of annoyance and walks across the room to the shut her bedroom door behind her younger brother. Shaking her head she walks back toward her desk and opens the drawer she had slammed shut only moments before. She extracts the glossy slip of paper and turns it over to look at the front.

Sure enough it's a strip of photos of Jane and her the night before, taken at some random photo booth they had found at the fairgrounds.

They're not raunchy photos or anything like that, but it's still not something she'd want James to lay his eyes on for too long. Jane and she are sitting a little too close for comfort in the photographs. Jane's arm is wrapped possessively around Maura's shoulders, and in one of the photographs she even manages to catch Maura's lips with her own.

Besides the fact that they're both clothed in 21st century attire, Maura included, that one frame is the only reason she freaked out about James picking it up.

Releasing a sigh of relief that James didn't see too much of the pictures, Maura moves some items around in the drawer and slides the strip of photos to the very back so it's hidden from the eyes of anyone opening the drawer.

And just to be safe, she piles some of the random items on top before securely closing the drawer and sealing the photographs away from the eyes of anyone else for years to come.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Goodbyes & Dust **

"Must you leave?" Maura asks for the eighth time since Jane arrived, her voice soft and wishful, hoping for a different answer than the seven times before.

Alas, she receives the same regretful head nod.

"I have to," Jane responds quietly, her whispered tone almost cracking as she looks into Maura's welling eyes. The tears are piling upon one another in Maura's bright hazel eyes, daring to fall and tumble down her cheeks to her trembling bottom lip. But for now they stay in place, resisting the natural urge to stream down Maura's face.

Jane bites the inside of her cheek to hold back her own tears, knowing that the second Maura releases hers, she won't be able to control herself either.

She darts her dampening eyes away from Maura's and looks down at where her hands are resting on Maura's hips, holding on in a possessive manner. She grabs on a little tighter.

"I love you," she says in a gentle tone, managing to bring her eyes to meet Maura's.

Leaning forward, she presses her lips against Maura's in a very light kiss, barely lingering longer than a few sacred seconds. Not wanting to pull too far away, Jane rests her bare forehead against Maura's.

"Stay," Maura says after a minute of silence has elapsed. Her voice is quiet, her tone not quite demanding, though it's apparent she's hoping that Jane will obey her wish.

Jane sighs and lets her eyelids fall shut as she moves her hands from Maura's hips to link around her waist in a loving embrace, pulling her a smidge or two closer. Though wishing she could say otherwise, the regretful words still fall from her lips in a barely audible tone, "I can't."

Maura breathes in deeply, attempting to hold her tears back as long as possible before she's forced to give up the fight.

Taking a ragged breath, she curls her hands tighter into the material of Jane's t-shirt. She takes up clumps of the cotton in her hands and holds on around Jane's chest, wishing her grip were enough to keep Jane with her.

"Don't go," she manages to whisper.

Jane opens her eyes at exactly the wrong moment, opening them only to see a fresh set of salty tears sliding down Maura's smooth cheeks.

"I have to."

"You don't."

"I do."

"But I don't want you to go."

Jane sighs and tries to place a smile of the tiniest sorts upon her lips, but no such expression will show. She takes her one hand away from Maura's waist and uses her thumb to wipe the stray tears off of Maura's silky smooth cheeks.

"It's only two months at the most," Jane reassures the troubled woman in her arms, trying her best to look on the brighter side of things.

Maura nods stiffly in agreement, her bottom lip hidden beneath her upper teeth in an attempt to hold back her tears. "But two months is a very long time, Ms. Rizzoli," she whispers in a cracking voice.  
If she had said "Jane" she wouldn't have been able to control her tears any longer.

Jane sighs and cups Maura's cheek in her hand. "I know, I know," she replies with her head nodding subconsciously.

They're silent for several moments, the heavy summer air weighing down on them, as they hold onto each other in a few last sweet moments together, savoring each feature of one another with the hopes of photographic memory.

Maura's breathing suddenly halts, catching Jane's attention. Their eyes meet. There's a glint of hope hidden in the depths of Maura's eyes. "Take me with you," she says softly, a small smile seeming to work its way onto her lips.

"You want to come along?" Jane asks skeptically.

The smile on Maura's lips falters. "I-I… I can't," she finally responds.

"Why not?"

Their eyes meet again, but Maura quickly looks away, her eyes darting around the yard and settling on the house not even several yards away. "I can't," she says quietly, "Jane, two months is too long in the future."

_You'll be there much longer than two months by next year_, Jane thinks to herself, once again praying that the future is where Maura runs off. However, Jane nods her head understandingly.

"You're right," Jane responds softly, the harmless lie rolling off her tongue. "Hey, look at me," Jane whispers, taking her hand below Maura's chin and turning her head until their eyes undoubtedly meet. "It's only two months, Maura. Two short, little months… they'll be over before you know it, and then things will be back to normal."

Maura nods her head gently, her bottom lip once again sucked in beneath her upper jaw. "Two months," she repeats in a soft tone.

"Yeah," Jane says and glances away from Maura for a short moment, her eyes scanning the yard and then settling on the house next to them. She stares at the windows to see if there's any movement, but she finds none. Turning back to Maura, she says with a smile, "Come here…"

The brown locked girl leans forward, her eyes unconsciously falling shut and her lips falling open as she creeps her hand around to the nape of Maura's neck where she presses gently, quickly bringing their lips together. Not caring about the possibility of someone's wandering eyes catching sight of them, they escape into the kiss, all of their worries momentarily leaving them.

Jane keeps her hand at the base of Maura's head, her fingers absentmindedly getting lost in strands of Maura's hair as she also continually presses the young woman's head forward as to not allow her the chance to pull away.

However, Maura has no intentions of pulling away. She's too wrapped up in Jane's arms and too lost in Jane's gentle, loving touch to pull away. Her mind completely blanks on where they are: out in the open. It doesn't even seem to matter right now; unlike every other meeting they've had, where location was always a major factor.

The kiss lasts a fair minute, though it never did go too deep. It stayed chaste and bittersweet, nothing more than a savored moment between two lovers as they say their hesitant goodbyes.

Jane forces herself to pull away, hating each millimeter she puts in between her and Maura even though she knows they must be taken.

"I should be going," she whispers gently, watching as Maura slowly open her eyes.

Maura nods against her own wishes and replies softly, "If you must."

They say their final words and exchange a round of "I love you" before Jane finally gets up the nerve to take a step away from Maura, her arms leaving her waist and falling to hang at her own sides.

"Don't forget about me," she says as she backs her way all the way up to the water pump, backing into it with her heels. She glances over her shoulder and wraps her fingers around the handle, holding on in a familiar grip.

Maura manages a halfhearted smile as she watches Jane. "I won't," she promises.

With the jiggle of a handle, Maura squeezes her eyes shut as she sees the first traces of Jane vanishing right before her eyes, like something out of a tall tale that Mother would tell her as a bed time story when she was a child. The wind picks up around her, but after a few seconds everything seems to return to normal, and she opens her eyes to see the water pump in front of her completely vacant with no hints of a brown locked woman in sight.

Sniffling slightly, she forces her legs to walk the short distance back to the house to wait for two long months before she can be back in the safety of Jane's arms. Shuffling back to her house, being caught is the least of the worries on her mind.

Unfortunately, a pair of eyes was watching every second of their goodbye from the second story hallway window.

* * *

James continues staring straight out the window, his eyes wide with astonishment. His legs fail to carry him off to the safety of his bedroom even as he hears the stairs creaking slightly beneath the weight of someone's footsteps; undoubtedly Maura's. Though he knows it wisest to scamper off to his bedroom and leave the matter be, he remains glued to his spot; his feet planted to the carpet, his hands resting on the windowsill, and his nose only centimeters away from glass pane.

"James?" Maura's voice carries up the remainder of the steps as the older woman pauses midway up the staircase, her head raised and her cheeks shiny with tearstains. "What are you doing?"

James turns his head from the window and his eyes lock with Maura's. He's silent for a moment before responding, though he doesn't answer his sister's question. "Where'd Jane go?" he asks, keeping his voice low so neither Mother nor Father overhears.

Maura averts her eyes as she feels her cheeks heating up unavoidably. "She's going to her grandparents' house," she mumbles in reply as she shoves past her younger brother and into her own bedroom, where she shuts the door immediately.

The younger boy allows his eyes to linger on the closed door for a few more seconds before glancing out the window once more.

Sure, seeing his sister and that Ms. Rizzoli fellow kissing yet again shook him up a smidge.  
But right now, that's the least of the wonders on his mind.

Right now, he's a tad more curious as to how exactly Jane vanished…

* * *

Jane nudges the guestroom door open with the toe of her shoe and drags in her duffel bag full of clothes and other necessities that she'll need for the main stay of summer at her grandparents' house. She drops her bags at the foot of the twin-size bed and shrugs the backpack off her shoulder and onto the mattress.

Releasing a heavy sigh she glances around the room, which seems to be completely untouched since the last time she was here at Christmas. "Same old, same old," she mumbles beneath her breath and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

She leans her elbows on her knees and rests her forehead in the palms of her hands. It's going to be an agonizingly long two months, she already knows. Her grandparents are at the point where they should be in a nursing home, but they're much too stubborn to admit that they could use the extra help. They're both in their mid-eighties and they keep on living like they're energizer bunnies.

Despite their stubbornness, they do need help – even with simple everyday things. Translating to mean that basically Jane and her brother, Frankie, are going to be like hospice nurses over the next two months.

And the worst part of everything is the second Jane embraced her grandpa in a caring hug, she couldn't help but notice those similar features as she pulled away. He has that same stubborn chin as his father, James. And thinking like that only leads Jane's mind directly back to Maura.

"Do you miss her?" Frankie's young voice reaches his sister's ears while she's jamming the heels of her hands against her eyes, as if trying to rid of torturous images.

She glances up from her hands and settles her eyes on her brother as he walks the rest of the way into the room and perches on the edge of the other bed, opposite her. "Miss who?" she asks in a whisper.

Her brother rolls his eyes.

"You know," he says with a hidden smile, "that girl."

"W-what girl?" Jane asks curiously, unable to piece together that her brother knows about her and Maura. Of course, she's forgotten that evening when he barged in on them arm and arm.

Again, the young boy rolls his eyes with a typical teenager exasperation.  
"That girl," he repeats his own words, his tone slightly embarrassed to be talking about such a thing with his sister. "The one with the blonde hair… Maura? Or something like that?" His sister nods her head stiffly. "Do you miss her?"

There's a heavy sigh that echoes throughout the room and then Jane has her hands jabbing into her eyes once again. She attempts a casual shrug, but such a movement goes unacknowledged in her present position, all slumped over.

An entire minute goes by before she finds a trace of her voice to respond, "Kind of, I guess."

Frankie giggles lightly upon seeing a blush creep up his sister's neck. "That's cute," he says in between his laughter, never before seeing or hearing his sister care about someone enough to admit to missing them. "Is she going to come up here and visit over the summer?"

His sister shakes her head, regrettably. "She can't," her voice peeps up in response.

"Oh." There are a few moments of silence before Frankie speaks up again. "Is she your… your _girlfriend_?"

Jane pauses her process of repeatedly ramming her fists into her eye sockets. She takes a moment and raises her head only to rest her chin into her cupped hands. She breathes in deeply and releases a long exhale before meeting her eyes with Frankie's. With a halfhearted smile adorning her lips she replies in a soft tone, "Yeah, she is."

Frankie's cheeks heat up to beet red and he ducks his head slightly. "You're gay?"

"Guess so," Jane responds plainly. She never was before, but it's not like she can deny it now. And claiming to only be gay for one person is just a way of lying to yourself, in Jane's opinion.

Her brother giggles yet again. "Does Ma know? Have you told her yet?"

Sighing and allowing her eyelids to fall shut she replies tiredly, "No, not yet. I haven't found the right moment yet."

"Oh."

"Knock, knock," a voice sounds at the doorway with a gentle rasp on the already open door as their grandma enters the room with a warm grin scrunching up her wrinkled features.

Jane and Frankie both turn to look at the door, greeting their grandmother with big smiles as she slowly makes her way into the room with her slim cane that doesn't seem to be doing much good.

Jane moves her backpack toward the wall, making room for her grandmother, and helps the older woman gently take a seat on the edge of the bed.

"What's up, Grandma?" Jane asks as she takes her seat again, frowning at how worn out she looks just from the short trip to the guestroom from the family room.

The older woman releases a tired sigh and shifts on the mattress, setting her cane to lean against the foot of the bed. "Oh, Grandma's getting old," she says with strangled laugh, smiling lightly. "But Grandpa wanted me to break the news to you two myself. He doesn't want to be the bad guy this year."

The grandkids immediately smirk, knowing exactly what she's talking about: their summer jobs.  
They don't get to laze about their grandparents' house every summer. They're young and healthy, in the perfect condition to be put to hard labor.

"What's the verdict this year?" Jane asks, slightly dreading the answer. There have been some pretty demanding jobs in the past few summers.

"Oh, nothing to get worked up over," their grandmother replies, patting Jane's knee reassuringly. "We thought that this year you two could help with cleaning out the basement. There are so many knickknacks down there…" she trails off into a merry chuckle, shaking her head humoredly. "Your grandfather is such a packrat, but he'll never admit to it. You know him, too stubborn to admit he's stubborn." She lets out a gentle laugh. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"We'll manage," Jane responds, "as long as it's not identical to the shit—… junk in the attic."

Her grandmother sends her a slight glare, silently warning her of her language before she replies. "It's not nearly half as bad as the attic was. The attic was all my old, forgotten knickknacks. The basement is full of your grandfather's things. And his knickknacks are much more interesting than mine. He has artifacts from when he was a child and boxes and boxes of stuff from his father—"

"He has some of James' stuff?" Jane asks, interrupting her grandmother and causing all the eyes in the room to fall on her.

Her grandmother creases her brow in slight confusion, turning to look at her granddaughter. "Things of your great-grandfather's, yes," she replies, her tone bewildered. "How'd you remember his name? Were you studying genealogy in school?" She laughs, clearly joking.  
Jane laughs and shakes her head. "Nah, it's just… something I know," she responds lightly, thankful that there's no curiosity as to why she acted so interested. "So how soon do we need to start doing that?" she asks, changing the subject.

"As soon as you'd like," her grandmother says with smile, "you have all summer."

* * *

Jane held out a few days, almost a week, taking the time to get settled in for the following months. She didn't want to be thinking about Maura and it seemed that if she got anywhere close to the basement that's exactly where her mind ran off to.

On day six of being at her grandparents' house she found herself downstairs in the basement during the midafternoon, sheltered from the heat and sun, and instead she's lost among endless, untidy piles of boxes upon boxes. Some are stacked nicely while others look like a miniature leaning tower of Pisa. But one thing is the same no matter where the placement; everything is covered in a lovely layer of dust.

Jane pulls a little chain to turn on one of the overhead lights, illuminating a good portion of the basement. She releases a sigh, unable to decide where to start in this mess, and flips open the lid of the box closest to her. Waving her left hand in front of her face she coughs as a cloud of dust flies from its resting position and attacks the air around her. She coughs until the air is, for the most part, once again settled.

Taking a step closer she peaks into the open box and frowns at the contents.

Toys.

It's full of nothing more than broken, vintage little kid's toys. And from the look of it, they seem to be her mother's versus her grandfather's. Unless, of course, her grandfather used to be fond of knock-off Barbie dolls as a child.

Jane smirks and tilts the box back to look at the side of it in the light, and sure enough, scrawled in bright red sharpie it says: Angela's toys.

That's definitely not what's looking for.

But if one box is labeled does that mean the others are, too?

Jane reaches to the shelf behind her and picks up the flashlight she had brought down. Leaving the box open, she switches on the flashlight and looks at the visible sides of the rows of boxes until her eyes fall on one with the word she's looking for.

She turns off the flashlight and throws it aside before lifting the flaps of the box.  
She immediately looks in, but to her disappointment there's not much to see.

"Why are you already doing this?"

She drops the framed photographs of her grandpa as a child back into the box and looks over her shoulder as her little brother comes skipping down the basement steps, switching on excess lighting in the process. His flip-flops make shuffling sounds on the cement floor while he walks over toward his sister.

Jane lets out a sigh and shrugs, turning her attention back to the box full of photographs. Picking up a family photo from when her grandpa was a child she responds, "Nothing better to do."

"So you'd rather be down here in this dust playground?" he asks and lifts himself up onto a fairly sturdy stool, running his finger along the top of a closed box. Raising his finger up toward his face, he grimaces at the thick layer of dust covering his skin. "Gross."

"It beats being out in the heat," she mumbles and moves the entire box on top to an empty space on the ground. She opens the box underneath and grunts as she sees a pile full of reminiscent baby clothes. "Grandpa is such a packrat… why would anyone want to keep all this shit?"

Frankie giggles and jumps off the stool, opening the lid to a different box not too far away. "And Grandpa apparently likes teddy bears," he says with a laugh, pulling out a stuffed animal from the box he had opened. "Ew, it smells all old and musty—"

"Let me see that," Jane interrupts after glancing up from the box beneath her hands, her eyes falling on a familiar teddy bear. She grabs the stuffed animal out of her brother's grip and looks at it closer, her eyes widening as she touches the blue fur as if it's gold.

Frankie laughs at his sister's astonishment before turning back to the box. "Does Janie like the teddy?" he asks in a babyish voice.

"Shut up, I just…" she trails off, realizing she can't tell him that she got this same exact bear for Maura a couple weeks before. And it is the same bear, despite its slightly worn and torn look. She shakes her head and lets her hands hang at her side, the bear still tightly gripped in her left hand. "Where'd you find this?"

"In here," Frankie replies with a cough, waving away a cloud of dust. "Ooh, what's this?" he asks after moving aside a little stack of papers. He reaches his arms deep down into the fairly large box and pulls out a leather-bound book. Undoing the knot and pulling the strings apart, he opens it to the first page.

"What is it?" Jane asks softly, watching her brother grin as he takes a seat on the stool yet again, the small book held in his hands.

He giggles lightly and closes it, holding it out for Jane. "I think it's, like, a diary or something. It looks like some little kid wrote it. Here, look."

Jane places the teddy bear on top of a stack of closed boxes and takes the closed book from her brother. She runs her fingers across the leather covering, flipping it over once in her hands. It looks old and the corners are dented, as if having been shoved into little hiding spots far too many times.

Leaning back against a foundation beam, she flips the front cover out of the way and angles the book so she can read it in the dim overhead light.

Her brother was right; it does seem as if a little kid wrote it.

The penmanship is angled and scrawled and fairly large, like when a child is first learning to write in between borders.

Reading over the first page, the subject only seems to further prove the fact. She laughs at the childishness of the first entry, the child having written about the toy that his mother wouldn't let him get when they went to town and how mad he was at her. He honestly portrayed his mother as an equivalent of the devil.

"What are you laughing at?" Frankie asks, swinging his dangling feet back and forth from his position on the stool.

Jane looks up from the page, slightly startled. "It's like a little kid's journal," she replies with a short laugh, as if that's enough reason for her laughter. Subconsciously flipping the page she adds on, "It's ridiculous."

"Okay then," Frankie says and jumps off the stool. "You have fun with that, I'm going back upstairs."

Jane merely nods in a silent response as she hears her brother shuffling back up the steps, her attention somewhere else entirely. She skims the next few pages, laughing to herself at the ridiculous journal entries. As she turns the next page she notes the chunk of torn out pages, their edges still intact with the ragged rips as nothing more than a faint memory.

She runs her fingers over the batted edges before allowing her eyes to fall on the next entry. However, this entry is different than the previous. The handwriting is neater and this time there's a date written at the top of the page.

"Ah!" Jane nearly shouts and jumps as she feels a light ticklish feeling on her cheek. She smacks the little creature away and it falls to floor alongside the journal. She calms her breathing and kneels down to pick up the book, muttering, "Stupid bug," beneath her breath. She sighs heavily and lifts the book by the front cover. The pages of the journal fan open as she stands back up and a strip of paper falls from the journal and flutters to the ground.

Jane leans back down and picks up the object. It's a folded slip of paper, fairly hard – like a kind of cardstock. The folded edge of it looks as if it's been smoothed down until it was as thin as it could possibly be.

Standing up once again, she places the journal on top of a box and looks down at the folded strip of paper in her hands with a look of confusion overpowering her features. She leans against the pole in her previous position and snakes her fingers in between the two edges to unfold the paper.

Her breathing catches in her throat.  
The paper begins shaking, following the movement of her hands.  
She blinks several times, unable to believe what she's seeing. It's almost too unreal.

She glances down at the paper once again, but it hasn't changed. It's the same as it was two seconds before; the strip of pictures from the photo booth at the carnival a couple weeks before. Each and every one of the little squares shows a cute flash of Maura and Jane together.

Her heartbeat quickens as she realizes where the paper was. _James' journal_, she thinks to herself, the words blaring in her mind. She scrambles to grab the book, the photos still hugged between her fingers as she flips through the pages until she comes to later entries with more "recent" dates.

"1908, 1908, come on, come on," she whispers, turning page after page until she finds a match. "March 20, 1908! Yes!" She skims her right index finger down the page, her eyes scanning from left to right, her lips moving to form the words, and her voice occasionally saying useful mutterings aloud. "Maura brought a strange girl home yesterday… She mentioned something about not being able to get home… Maura let her stay the night… Mother and Father visiting Great-Aunt… Come morning, she was gone…"

Jane flips the page, her eyes still frantically running along the page, her fingers and palms sweating against the leather cover as the photos tremble in her weak grip. The next several entries she barely minds any attention to, finding it pointless to read over James' opinions of Maura's apparently quite often conversations about meeting Jane.

She pauses as she gets to the later entries, dated in late spring. She skims the first couple lines of one of them and then decides to read the entire entry, word for word. Her heart races the whole time.  
_  
May 22, 1908_

I knew Maura has been getting close to that Ms. Rizzoli fellow, but I never imagined they could be that close. I saw them run off into the forest earlier today and I followed them, thinking that perhaps Maura was showing Jane the small stream that's not too far away. I shouldn't have followed them. I shouldn't have.

There was no stream. They were "roughhousing" as Maura claimed. She made me swear not to tell Mother. I won't, but it would be pointless to rat on something she wasn't doing. They weren't roughhousing at all. I watched from behind a tree. They kissed! It was so gross! Two girls? Kissing? Is that even right? I've only ever heard and seen boys and girls kissing. I'd ask Mother, but I'm afraid she'd want to know the reason as to why I'm so curious.

I asked Maura, though. She said that to some people, it's wrong. I asked her if she's like that; if she likes girls.

She said no.

She lied. I know she did. I know what I saw.  
I saw her kissing Jane, I heard them talking.

If some people find it so wrong, then why is she doing it? And why is she hiding it?

Jane sighs and tries to slow the intense beating of her heart. James knows, and he knows more than they thought. That alone is reaching more than enough to make Jane freak out.

"Janie! Lunch is ready!" her grandmother's voice travels down the stairs and reaches her ears, bringing her mind springing out of her thoughts. She jumps in her spot and smacks the books shut. "Janie, are you down there?"

"Yeah, yeah, coming, Grandma!" she calls back and slides the photos back into the journal. Glancing around the messy basement she shoves the leather-bound book back into one of the boxes and dashes up the steps, leaving behind the journal and praying that her thoughts will stay behind with it.

* * *

Jane was not lucky, though. Her thoughts wouldn't stay behind, stored in the basement. Instead they plagued her mind the entire afternoon and evening, constantly popping up and making her leg jiggle in anxiety of what else James knows.

She even managed to sneak back down to the basement and back upstairs with the journal hidden behind her back as she walked past her grandparents.

And now she's staked out in the guestroom, leaning against the headboard with the book open against her legs. She flips through the pages, passing some entries she already read and discarding others that she doesn't really care about. She pauses momentarily on the entry she read earlier, but she turns the page quickly, skipping over a few when her eyes fall on one she can't avoid.  
_  
June 14, 1908_

I am terribly confused. I was watching Maura and Jane saying goodbye earlier. They were outside, and I was watching from the hallway window. I turned away when they were kissing (that's still quite odd), but it was obvious they were saying goodbye to one another. (I asked Maura and she said that Jane is going to her grandparents' house for a while)

They finished their goodbyes and then Jane walked over to that water pump that Father has forgotten to fix. She looked as if she was about to try and use it to pump up some water, but I'm not sure if I blinked or blacked out, but the next thing I know she was gone.

She vanished from our backyard.

I'm positive my eyes were wide open, and it was as if she evaporated into thin air.

She was there one second and gone the next. Even if I did blink, that's not enough time for her to run off in the other direction. I've been trying to come up with a hundred different explanations, but none of them fit.

I swear she vanished.

I should ask Maura about that. She was down there with Jane, maybe she knows.

Though, she didn't seem too shaken up by it.

Jane freezes, her grip on the bottom corner of the page causing it to shake like a mini tremor. _He can't know about the time travel_, Jane reassures her mind, ignoring the warning signs popping up continually. But with the flip of several more pages, reassuring her mind is getting harder with every word.


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you all for waiting so patiently and sticking with me. You don't know how happy it makes me to receive notifications of follows, favorites, and reviews. They mean so much to me. And, to reward you all you get two chapters today. Enjoy_. _Also,_ please _leave reviews telling me what you think._  
_**

* * *

**Chapter 21: I Followed You **

_July 5, 1908 _

_I still don't know what happened to Jane. I ask Maura and she only says that she's away to visit her grandparents. That's all she'll tell me. I've mentioned that I swear I saw Jane vanish from the backyard, but Maura merely tells me that Jane had to leave quickly and that I'm just seeing things that aren't there._

I swear I saw Jane vanish, I swear.

* * *

July 14, 1908

I know Maura is hiding something. So today, while she was out in town with Byron, I snooped around her bedroom. I started with her desk where she shoved that paper a few weeks ago.

I was right – it is pictures of her and Jane.

But they're not normal photos like the one we got taken last year as a family portrait. This one wasn't black and white - they were in color. Every single centimeter was in bright color. I've never seen a color photo like this before. I know there are photos in color, Mother's mentioned them, but we still get ours in black and white since the color costs a fortune, as I've heard Father say. And the color photos I've seen, the color always looks so faded! But these pictures, the color was as bright as the world around me. I've never seen anything quite like it!

And there were six different photos, each one of them a different pose. I can't imagine how long those took. Our family portrait took an awfully long time just to be taken.

Oh – and their clothes! They didn't even bother to dress up, but I can't even name what it is they were wearing! Though, I've never seen anyone wearing clothes quite like those before, besides Jane.

They're those weird shirts made out of that uncomfortably thick material with those strange drawings on the front… And it wasn't just Jane in those types of clothes - it was Maura, too! Mother would have a fit if she were to ever see Maura in such garments!

Oh, and the paper that the photos are on… it's all shiny and glossy. I've never seen or felt paper even similar to that.

All I can say is that Jane's town is very, very strange!

Oh, and I looked around the rest of Maura's room and guess what else I found! The clothes she's wearing in the photo! They were nicely folded and shoved to the very back of the one drawer in her dresser, obviously purposely hidden.

The shirt is that odd material I was talking about, almost stretchy in a manner. And the trousers are so odd! They're extremely thick and stiff and dark blue. They don't look or feel like they'd be incredibly comfortable to wear.

As for why Maura has them, I don't know. I put them back, but I held onto the photos.

Did I mention she and Jane are kissing in one of the photos? They are. It's gross, actually. How can they do that? Mother would have a fit about that too, I'm sure.

Why is Maura doing all this with Jane if she's supposed to marry Byron?

She still meets with Byron on a normal basis and they go to all these outings and events with each other, like a couple. Maura never looks like she enjoys it, and I know why. She'd probably rather be with Jane, I think. It's gross, but she'd be better off marrying Jane.

Can two women get married?

I've never heard of that happening in the past, but I've also never heard of two girls falling in love with each other.

But I think Maura and Jane are.  
So I don't understand why Maura is still meeting up with Byron.

Does she know Mother and Father are expecting them to marry soon? I heard Mother and Father talking about it a couple weeks ago. Mother seems thrilled about Maura and Byron's relationship. She kept saying "any day now," and I even heard her say that Byron has "taken a liking to Maura" – I'm not exactly sure what she means by that.

I know Byron likes Maura, though. A lot. Every time he comes around here he's always blushing at almost every word Maura says. He bows his head and hides his laughter. He's always smiling around Maura, too.

I brought it up with Maura the other night. I asked her if she's going to marry him and she said she wasn't sure.

She didn't want to talk about it at all, actually. She wouldn't look at me the entire time, and she kept wiping her hands along her thighs like she was nervous or something. And when I mentioned what Mother had said about Byron taking a liking for her she didn't seem too happy.

She almost looked about ready to cry.

I asked if it had anything to do with Jane and she said it's none of my business.

I'm pretty sure she knows that I know about her and Jane. I think she's only afraid that I'll tell Mother or Father about them, but I won't. If I were her, I don't think I'd want them knowing about it either. Especially since Mother doesn't terribly like Jane.

Oh, Mother does not like Jane at all.

I'm not sure if it's her clothes or her lack of manners or both, but every time she comes around here the air always gets stiff between them. It's as if Mother despises her. I don't know why, though. Can't she tell that Maura's happier since meeting her?

It's obvious she does not approve of Jane, and she definitely still does not approve of her and Maura seeing one another.

After every encounter she has with Jane she always seems to have a headache. I guess she really doesn't like her… I don't know. But I won't ask her about it, I'm afraid she'd be angry with me for asking…

She's been happier now that Maura and Jane haven't visited each other for a few weeks, but she doesn't know that Jane is at her grandparents for the summer and she'll be back. Perhaps she's under the impression that they're no longer friends?

I wonder where Jane's grandparents live…

And I still swear I saw her vanish from our backyard.  
Maybe I'll have to go check out that watering pump for myself, since Maura won't open her mouth about it.

I have this feeling in my stomach that it has something to do with that pump. I saw Jane jiggle the handle like she was going to get some water (even though it's been broken forever) and then she vanished.

It's so odd.

I'll look at it next time I go out back, unless Maura opens her mouth. Wait, I think I just heard her come back from town with Byron. It sounds like they're in the backyard…

* * *

"Maura, there's been something on my mind that I think we should discuss," Byron says softly as he and Maura round the corner of the Isles residence and saunter to the backside of the house. They walk arm in arm, Maura only doing so out of politeness and common etiquette. As they come to a shaded area, under cover up on the back part of the porch that circles the house, Maura releases the young gentleman's arm and stands opposite him.

"And what would that be, Mr. Sluckey?" she asks with a soft smile, causing the boy opposite her to blush and duck his head slightly. She smiles a friendly smile, looking pleased to be there, but on the inside she can't help but wish she were somewhere else with a different person entirely.

Byron paces around slightly, keeping his head bowed as he thinks up the best manner in which to propose his question. "Ms. Isles," he begins lightly, his voice shaking, "You do remember why we met in the first place, right?"

Maura breathes in deeply and releases a quiet sigh as she wrings her hands nervously. However, she nods her head nervously once Byron looks down at her for a response.

"Oh, Maura, don't look so frightened," Byron says with a laugh, taking a couple steps closer to Maura. He places his left hand in her right hand, Maura's fingers slide into his larger hand and wrap around his palm. Byron squeezes lightly, reassuring her, "It's not like I'm asking for something drastic."

Maura smiles and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, it's the heat," she explains in a white lie, pulling at her collar with her free hand, her right hand still unbearably trapped in Byron's grip.

"It is a tad warm out here," he agrees softly and slowly. He smiles as Maura raises her head and their eyes meet in a friendly greeting, locking with one another.

Maura does her best to hold onto her meek smile, forcing every muscle in her face to scrunch upward into a grin as she restrains herself from yanking her hand away from his. "W-what is it you want to discuss?" she asks in an unsteady voice.

The grip on her hand tightens for a moment as Byron lowers his head for a few seconds. Raising his head he continues quietly, "Ms. Isles, I think something inside of me has… has changed over the past few months."

The young woman's eyes widen by a smidge as she sees something glint in Byron's eyes, matching up with the smile forming on his lips.

"I used to hate the idea of being forced into a relationship," he continues, taking another step closer to Maura, "but now the idea doesn't seem so…"

He pauses, his lips staying parted as he tilts his head farther downward and allows his eyes to run across Maura's features before settling on her sealed lips.

Maura takes a step backwards, a feeling in the pit of her stomach guiding her to do so.  
However, Byron merely closes the distance once again, his feet following Maura's and his hand refusing to leave hers.

"B-Byron," she stutters on his name, her shaky voice barely louder than her near inaudible exhale. She takes another step back and another three, yet Byron is nearly on her toes. He won't allow any distance to form between them. Maura's face pales and her heartbeat quickens as she realizes the man's intentions, his face slowly inching closer to hers, his eyelids falling farther and farther shut with each millimeter, his lips still parted ever so slightly.

Byron is too lost in his fantasy to notice the petrified look on the face of the woman in front of him.  
Moving his other hand forward and placing it on Maura's arm, his intentions are far more than blatantly clear.

"Maura," he whispers, his lips barely two inches from Maura's, his exhales tickling Maura's chin, "now that idea doesn't seem so…" He pauses again, his eyes now completely closed.

Maura holds her breath with her back against the wall of the house at this point, unable to escape. She stands up as straight as possible, her eyes wide as she stares up at Byron's peaceful face.

She's never before seen him as much of a threat, but at this moment she's not too sure of what to think.

"It doesn't seem so unrealistic…" he finishes and completes one of Maura's worst nightmares.

He leans the rest of the way forward and brings his lips flat against Maura's in what is supposed to be a picture perfect first kiss, though it's far from it. If he'd open his eyes for even a split second he'd be able to tell that Maura is fighting against it with all her will while still trying to be a gentlewoman. Her eyes are open, her shoulders are scrunched up and she manages to snake her hands and arms away from Byron's grip.

Nevertheless, she remains still as Byron's lips seem to remain limp against hers. After all, it's a one-sided kiss, and she doesn't have much choice to move away unless she was to physically push the young man. She would never do such a thing. Her mother's teaching of manners drilled into her head.

It seems like an eternity has passed by the time Byron pulls himself away from Maura, his eyelids slowly opening. She darts her eyes around as he cautiously runs three curious fingers across his parted lips.

At last, he brings his vision up away from Maura's mouth and the smile is quickly washed off his features. "Maura, are you… are you alright?" he asks in a breathy voice, still running on a sort of high from the kiss, despite the lack of fireworks.

Byron reaches a hand forward, unsure of how to react to Maura's horrified face, but it's taken care of before he can even lay a finger on her.

"I…" Maura begins, shaking her head as she realizes she can't come up with any logical sentences. She glances around, her eyes flying past Byron and settling on an object out in the middle of the backyard. Without even muttering a syllable she brushes past Byron and takes off in a quick walk off the back porch and into the yard.

"Maura, where in heavens are you going?" Byron questions as he scurries after Maura. "There's something more important that I need to tell you," he says, following Maura all the way to a water pump standing toward the outer edge of the yard.

She comes to a halt, Byron doing likewise behind her, he curiously looks from Maura to the pipe and then back again.

"Maura, what are you doing?" he asks, momentarily distracted from his train of thought as he watches Maura grab hold of the handle.

Maura glances over her shoulder at Byron, a look of trouble covering her features and a hint of annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Um, Byron, turn around, okay?" she sputters softly, her voice cracking as if she's on the verge of tears. How odd.

The young man furrows his brow slightly, but he obeys and turns around, a smile forming on his face at the possibility that this could possibly be a surprise. He likes surprises. He bites his lip anxiously and asks, "Do you have a surprise for me, Ms. Isles?"

There's no response for a few seconds, Maura pausing at whatever she was doing to glance back at Byron with an irritable look on her face.

"You could say so, Mr. Sluckey," she replies gently, not planning on giving him another moment's worth of time.

However, he speaks faster than she can act.

"Maura, there's something I want you to know."

Maura pauses once more, momentarily removing her hand from the handle of the water pump. "And what's that?"

Byron takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising as he nervously wrings his hands together and says in an excited voice, "I want you to know that I'm ready."

"Ready?" Maura questions, not following.

"Yes, Ms. Isles, I'm ready," he replies happily, a nervous giggle escaping his lips. "And now all that's left is for me to find a proper place and moment to ask you."

Maura's eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat as she realizes what Byron is talking about. She places her fingers back around the handle of the water pump and grips it tightly.

"And, if you are as ready as I am, Maura, I want to know if you will be my wife?" Byron says with a pleasant laugh, sounding way more excited than Maura. Smiling brightly, his back still toward Maura.

His response is nothing more than the remains of a gasp lingering in the air, ringing in a tone that's nowhere near happy or excited.

Concerned by the reaction, Byron frowns slightly and turns back around to see what's causing Maura to gasp in such a way.

However, his eyes meet nothing more than a swirling, miniature circle of leaves spinning around the abandoned water pump and across the grass in a light breeze.

"M-Maura?" Byron asks cautiously, his voice trembling at the eerie silence that meets his ears. He takes two tiny steps forward, peering through the trees in the brush that surrounds the estate, but there wasn't any rustling to match up with a person escaping into the thick shrubbery. "Ms. Isles?" he asks a little louder, glancing toward his right and then toward his left.

He jumps, his eyes widening as he gasps.

"Oh!" he exclaims in a trembling voice, bringing his right hand up to his chest, clutching the area above his heart with a trembling hand. "James, you nearly gave me a fright!"

James doesn't respond or even bother to move from his position. He merely shifts his eyes to glance at Byron for a split second before allowing his vision to drift back toward the water pipe.

"James, did you happen to see where your sister ran off to? Was she not behind me a minute ago?" he asks apprehensively.

There's still no response.

"James, are you okay?" Byron asks, a frown coming onto his lips as he notices how pale the young boy's face is. "James, you look petrified! What happened?"

James raises his eyebrows in disbelief and points back toward the black pipe, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. "I… M-Maura… she!"

"She what, James?" Byron questions and takes a step closer toward the young boy, leaning down to meet his level.

James merely shakes his head in response, unable to respond properly, his eyes still wide with awe and fright.

"What did you see?"

The young boy looks at Byron for a moment, considering taking the time to explain what he saw only thirty seconds before, but he can't seem to make any words form logical statements quite yet. He looks past Byron, his eyes immediately falling back onto the water pump.

He may not know exactly what is happening, but one thing is for sure; he's now seen two people vanish from that exact spot.

Swallowing thickly, he brushes past Byron and sprints over toward the black pipe, both of his young hands gripping around the cold metal in a tight grasp. Unsure of what to do, he repeats what he saw his older sister doing moments before; he jiggles the handle with all his might, praying that it works and takes him to… to… wherever it is that both Maura and Jane have disappeared to.

Where, exactly, is what James is about to uncover on his own.

* * *

Maura releases the handle of the pipe as soon as she sees her surroundings change to that dingy old park full of dying grass. She squeezes her eyes shut and squats down, hanging her head in her hands as she holds back stressed tears. Her throat becomes dry and she takes a few deep breaths, doing her best to keep her shaking under control.

This is one thing she thought she'd never have to worry about with Byron.

He was so adamant toward marriage that she rarely ever thought it an issue, besides, of course, that marriage is the entire reason for their meeting.

However, people change and their feelings do as well.

And Byron has seemed to take a 180 over the past few months, his mindset changing from despising marriage and wanting to travel the world to actually wishing for a wedding.

_He can't want to marry me_, Maura says silently, wishing she could say it to his face, wishing she could reason with him and turn him back in the direction of his previous thoughts. But despite her wishes, Byron does seem to plan on marrying Maura, blindly adding himself to the category along with both of their fathers.

Indeed, what James heard their mother say was correct; Byron has taken a liking to Maura.

Maura shudders at remembrance of what Byron did, and she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth as she straightens up. She feels so… dirty right now, knowing that Byron sees her in more of a romantic light than he used to. Sighing, she wipes at her mouth a little harder, her eyes dampening as she thinks of Jane.

_She's not here_, Maura remembers, her body slumping as she realizes she's escaped to the future only to be alone.

She turns around and glances at her surroundings through weary eyes, her shoulders slumping at the sight of such a beautiful place gone wrong. If this is the same place, only 100 years in the future, that time certainly did not do it any good. And for the first time out of her handful of visits to this century, something finally dawns on her.

Again, if this is the same place, then what happened to her house?

Maura releases a huff of air and walks in the direction she would as if she were walking back to her house, but her eyes fall on nothing more than desolate land filled with grass that looks like it never even got a chance to learn the meaning of survival.

She squints down at the ground, even kneeling down occasionally and running her fingers through the clumps of grass, as if sweeping it to the side will reveal something more appeasing. But she's rewarded with nothing, not even the traces that a home used to occupy this land.

"Strange," she whispers, surveying the vacant area once more before standing up.

Glancing around nervously, she self-consciously wraps her arms around herself in a light hug, having never felt this alone since meeting Jane. She doesn't really know anyone else in this time, she has nowhere to go; she's like a lost little puppy.

However, she's certain about one thing.  
She's not heading back home right away.  
She needs a little break, just for a little while.

She takes a deep breath and bows her head slightly as she finds no better way to pass her time than to walk around town a little bit. It's not like she has anything better to do.

Maura heads out of the park the same way she does every other time she's come here, walking the same path she'd take to get to Jane's house. She's still clothed in her normal, early 1900s attire, since she didn't really have a moment to run into her house and change. She had to get out of there, she felt like she was suffocating merely being around Byron a second longer. He caught her completely off guard with that less than appealing kiss.

She sniffles lightly, tightening her grip as her arms fall into more of a crossed position than an awkward hug, her feet shuffling and guiding her along the cement sidewalk to no particular destination.

Anywhere is better than home right now.

"Maura!" an unfamiliar voice calls from a little ways away, but Maura doesn't acknowledge it.

It's probably not directed toward her anyways.

"Maura Isles!"

She stops and turns in the direction of the voice, letting her arms hang at her sides as her eyes fall on a boy about her age running up to her.

"It's Maura, right?" the boy asks as he comes to a full stop in front of Maura, smiling in a friendly manner.

Maura, however, doesn't show any signs of recognition, her face remaining utterly motionless and unreadable. "Do I know you?" she manages to ask in a soft voice, her tone cautious and vulnerable.

The teenager's smile widens as he stands up a bit straighter and releases a humble laugh. "I'm Frost, Jane's friend. We met at the mall a few months ago." Maura furrows her brow. "You know, the mall, that huge place with a ton of different stores… ringing any bells?"

"Oh, right!" Maura says, her face brightening by a hundred megawatts. "I thought you looked slightly familiar, I only couldn't place where I would have met you before," she continues with a smile, happy for some form of company.

"Yeah," Frost replies, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he releases a sigh. Lowering his voice, he asks, "So, what are you doing here?"

The meek smile is quickly removed from Maura's face. "I… I had to get away," she responds in a trembling voice, her head dropping as her eyes begin to dampen with unwanted tears.

Frost glances around them, staring at the other people walking around. He sighs inwardly and lightly takes Maura's arm, leading her off to the side. Luckily, Maura follows without any question; she's too scatterbrained to care or even put up a bit of resistance at the moment. She allows Frost to guide her off the middle of the sidewalk and to the edge, toward some bench.

"Do you want to sit?" Frost asks quietly, clearly seeing that Maura's upset. It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. Maura shakes her head stiffly, refusing to look up from the ground as they stand to the side of the bench, opposite one another. "Maura, are you okay?" Frost asks, letting go of Maura's arm.

Maura breathes in sharply, the breath catching on stacked up sobs in her throat. She raises her head and locks her welling eyes with Frost's, shaking her head yet again. "Not really," she admits in a cracking voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Frost asks politely.

Maura shakes her head no and averts her vision back to the ground once more, her shoulders rising as she takes a deep breath.

Frost scrunches up the right side of his mouth in a regretful look, unsure of what to say in response. No matter what he says, it's not going to be what Maura wants to hear. It's not like he can get Maura all the way over to Jane's grandparents' house; it's too far for a little day trip.

In a vulnerable, shaking tone, Maura whispers through her approaching tears, "I want Jane."

"Maura, I…" Frost begins to apologize when an idea pops into his mind. "Wait, Maura, do you want to call Jane? I have my cell. You can try calling her if you want. She usually has it on."

Maura sniffles lightly and looks up at Frost, wiping at her eyes quickly. "I can c-call her?" she asks curiously.

"Yeah," Frost replies, smiling at the hopeful look in Maura's eyes as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and flips it open. He scrolls through his short list of contacts and chooses Jane's name and number before handing it over to Maura. "Here," he says, taking a step closer with his phone. He angles the screen for Maura to see. "Just hit that green call button and it'll dial Jane for you, okay?" he asks, assuming Maura isn't accustomed to cell phones.

Maura nods and takes the phone from Frost's hand, sending him a thankful smile. She looks down at the slim object in her hands, noticing that it's quite different from the one Jane has. She runs her eyes over the screen, smiling softly as she sees Jane's name printed along the top of the tiny display along with a phone number.

She cautiously presses the green button with her thumb, watching as the display changes to read, "Calling Jane."

Seeing Frost walk a little distance away to give her a bit of privacy, she raises the rectangular object to her ear and listens to the four identical sounds, indicating that the call has gone through.

She paces a few steps, eagerly waiting to hear Jane's voice on the other end.

At last, the fourth ring finishes and it sounds as if a phone has been picked up at the other end, "_Hi—_"

"Jane?" Maura asks excitedly, her lips pulling back into a full grin at the sound of Jane's voice over the phone. She opens her mouth to continue, but she's cut off by Jane continuing to speak, as if she didn't hear her.

"_You've reached Jane Rizzoli, I'm not around to talk right now, so leave a message after the beep and I'll get back—_"

Maura lowers the phone from her ear, her eyes locked on some point in the distance as she realizes that Jane isn't there. A tear falls from the corner of her eye, racing down her cheek before she can wipe it away. She takes a deep breath and turns around, her eyes falling on Frost not too far off in the distance.

She walks over to Frost and extends her hand toward him, the phone resting in her palm. "Here," she says quietly, sniffling.

"You're done talking to her?" Frost asks in disbelief, her brow creasing in slight confusion at such a short phone call. He assumed he'd end up having to pry his phone out of Maura's hands within the next hour.

Maura shakes her head and breathes back a few tears, blinking her eyes quickly to rid of the evidence. "She wasn't there," she replies in a cracking voice, nudging the phone toward Frost until he picks it up from her hand.

"Oh," Frost says dumbly and takes his phone back, picking it up and glancing at the screen before going to shut it, but he pauses. "Oh, and this red button," he says with a smile, angling the phone toward Maura again, "is how you hang up." He presses it, realizing that Maura neglected to ever end the call, and flips his phone shut once more.

Maura nods, forcing a soft smile and acting like she'll remember that for any future encounters she'll have with a cell phone, but she'll most likely forget it. "Thanks anyways," she replies softly, glancing at her feet.

Frost sighs deeply and drops his phone back in his pocket before speaking up again. "I'm sorry she wasn't there, maybe she's just busy or something," he says in attempt of finding an excuse. "Am I able to help you at all or do you, like, really need Jane?"

Maura smiles at Frost's attempt. He obviously wants to help the best that he can. Maura smiles and shrugs timidly, "I don't know. I'll probably be fine, I'm just… what is it you all say? Freaking out?"

"Ah, I see," Frost replies with a smirk. "Well, you're welcome to hang with me if you have nowhere else to go. I was just headed to pick up some stuff at the grocery store for my mom, but, I mean, if you don't want to just be wandering around this place on your own."

"Thanks," Maura says softly, nodding her head in confirmation. "I think I will."

Without another word shared, Frost begins walking in the direction he was previously headed, with Maura falling in step behind him, silently following in his footsteps. They don't say much, nor do they bother to try and break the awkward silence between them. However, just having the company is more than comforting for Maura, despite that she barely knows this boy.

They pass the park on their way to the store that Frost had mentioned, both of them still walking in silence.

Maura tries not to let her thoughts drift back to Byron or toward anything that will remind her of him and what he did and said. She's nowhere near ready to deal with that, let alone think of such ridiculous ideas.

She shakes her head to rid of the thoughts and glances around at the town, letting her eyes fall on random people as they pass by, not caring to think twice about the odd looks she receives, evidently caused by her old clothing. She merely smiles back at the people, loving that she's able to turn a few heads every now and then.

About two blocks after passing the park, her eyes meet the familiar face of a troubled young boy across the street.

She freezes in her steps, her eyes widening to what seems no end.

She takes a quick glance to both sides, making sure none of those deathtrap cars are speeding by to kill her, and she runs across the street.

"James!" she yells, halfway in the middle of the road and still sprinting across the asphalt to reach the young boy. She waves her arms as the boy turns to look in her direction, his face pale and frightened.

"James, what… what in heavens are you doing here?" Maura asks as she reaches her brother and kneels down in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

James sputters for a few seconds, his lips moving, but no sound escaping as he looks at Maura with eyes full of frantic horror. At last, giving in to his racing heart, the young boy falls against his older sister and holds onto her in a tight hug, his small hands gripping onto Maura for dear life.

"I followed you," he replies after some time, his words muffled against Maura's shoulder.

* * *

_July 15, 1908_

Yesterday was unimaginable. I followed Maura.

And I was right. Jane did disappear and it has to do solely with that broken water pump in our backyard. I have no idea how it works or what it does to you, but I thought I was dreaming until Maura pinched me and told me to snap out of it.

I'm not entirely sure how to even begin describing what I saw, but I will, at some point.  
I'm sure it's something I'll never want to forget.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: Hidden Secrets **

Jane's eyes widen as she rereads the same entry in James' journal several times, her heart beating faster every time she runs her eyes across those same mindboggling words.

_I followed Maura._

"No," she whispers, forcing the word of disbelief out of her dry mouth despite the sudden loss of air.

She shakes her head, rereading the words yet again, and releases a skeptical laugh.

"That… that's insane," she says aloud to the empty room. If that entry were true then that would mean that James has come to the…

"No, h-he couldn't have," Jane finishes her thoughts out loud, fighting the voices in her head that tell her otherwise. Of course, all the evidence and arrows are pointing directly in the direction she doesn't want to go.

Still shaking her head at the unimaginable thought, she quickly turns the page, almost ripping it from the binding, in hopes of an explanation, or more so the truth on the other side.

However, when she turns the page, the only thing she flips to is the back cover of the journal.

The faded, black, leather cover stares back at her mockingly, marking the end.

She flips the book over in her hands, unable to believe it to be the end. Alas, no matter how many times she reopens the leather-bound journal, the amount of entries continues to stay the same. It's not a magical book. No matter how much she wishes for it to be such a thing, it will always be an ordinary child's diary and it will always stay the same.

But it can't just end right there! She needs to know what James meant!  
He couldn't have possibly followed Maura into the future, could he?

"Ugh!" Jane grits out in her frustration and throws the book to the foot of the bed, letting it fall on the pile of unmade sheets still lying in such a mess from that morning.

She glares at the journal as it rests against the light blue sheets, just lying there in a mocking manner. She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and doesn't waste a second before sprinting out of the guest room and down the steps as if she's running from a terrible fire.

The one thing she failed to notice on her way out of the room was her cell phone vibrating on the nightstand.

* * *

"James, you… you followed me?" Maura asks after several seconds, pulling her younger brother away from the comfort of her chest so she can look him directly in the face to make sure she's receiving a straight answer. She knows James always cracks a smile when he's trying to lie. "James… why?"

James rolls his lips together in a sheepish manner, not wanting to answer. His face is still pale and his eyes still huge with fear, though now tears cause the skin around his eyes to shimmer in the sunlight that beats down on the two siblings in the mid afternoon.

They haven't bothered moving and they don't care how many people turn their heads to stare at the two embracing in the middle of the sidewalk, both of them dressed up like they ran out in the middle of a photo shoot at one of those themed photography kiosks. They look so out of place that it's difficult not to take a second glance back in their direction.

The younger boy sniffles and glances around as he chews on his bottom lip. His eyes jump from face to face, widening at sights he's never before seen. Rings perched from people's eyebrows and lips, huge holes that you can see through in people's earlobes, and girls walking around barely clothed in anything more than risqué pieces of tight clothing. Vehicles that he can't even begin to stick a name to whiz past them, passing at unbelievable speeds that people have only dreamt of.

As a huge, roar-like sound meets his ears he looks up at the sky and sees what he assumes to be an aircraft of a sort flying up above. However, it certainly doesn't look like any of the aircrafts he's seen or heard about. He squints up past the sun and follows the object with his eyes, his jaw dropping at the look of it.

"James," Maura interrupts her brother's astonishment and forces him to look back at her, gently turning her chin until their eyes meet. "James, w-why did you follow me?" she asks in a trembling voice and notes the shadow that creeps up next to them.

The older sibling takes a second and glances up at the figure, forcing a dim smile as she realizes it's only Frost finally approaching them. But she doesn't let her mind be distracted, already turning her attention back on her younger brother.

James breathes in deeply, his shoulders rising as his chest puffs out. He opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes shift up at Frost for a moment and he loses all the courage he had gained with that single breath. And instead of responding he forces his way back out of Maura's grip and falls against her chest once again, holding on in the same manner he was only minutes before.

"James," Maura says with a gentle laugh and wraps her arms around her younger brother to finish the embrace. She holds on tightly, doing her best not to wince at how helplessly James' hands are holding onto her back and how far her little fingers are digging into the skin on her shoulders, despite the thin material in between them.

It's as if the younger boy is begging for reassurance, searching for safety.

He seems so troubled and afraid of this strange place, and it already seems to be paying its toll on him.

"James, please, it's okay," Maura tries reassuring her brother as the fingers tighten against her back. She, in return, tightens her arms around her brother's smaller frame. "You're okay, you're safe, James, I-I promise."

Maura's legs begin to quiver in her squatting position, but she doesn't want to stand up and force the hug to inevitably break.

Instead, she carefully shifts off her feet and onto her knees, not caring what happened to her knees becoming scratched or dirty. She could honestly care less at such a moment.

She never breaks the embrace, keeping her arms snugly wrapped around her brother's back in a protective hug. For once in her life the tables have turned and she's the one having to provide the safety and reassurance that others usually provide to her.

She feels her chest beginning to dampen as James apparently decides to let his tears flow, and she almost wants to cry at the thought of how horrified her brother must be. Her mind flicks back to her first visit, reliving every incident she went through until Jane found her wandering around outside of the school. She was so lost and out of place and confused… she can only imagine how differently an eight-year-old mind can process everything in this time.

Maura tightens her arms around James.

"James, I promise, you're o-okay now," her voice stutters, which doesn't always prove for the best form of reassurance.

They stay in the same position for a few minutes, silently holding onto each other as Frost stands at their side and watches with confusion written into every crevice of his face.

A few people occasionally stop and stare for a few seconds, wondering if they're in need of any more help, but they leave as quickly as they paused.

James' tears dwindle down to nothing more than a few muffled sniffles against Maura's chest and his grip loosens with each passing second, though he still holds on for the reassurance, afraid that if he lets go he'll be lost once again.

"James," Maura begins in gentle tone after her brother calms, "how, why, no, how did you… why did you follow me?"

At first the only answer she receives are the muffled sniffles as James seemingly wipes his wet nose against the damp fabric of Maura's dress, not receiving the dryness he had hoped for. He holds off on answering for a minute or so, shifting in his older sister's embrace and finally settling in with the side of his head buried against Maura's chest, not caring how childish he may be rubbing off as.

"Jane," he manages to begin in a trembling, cracking voice and only continues after Maura urges him to go on. "I saw Jane v-vanish from that… that water pump and all you told me was that I was seeing things and then today I saw you disappear at the same exact spot and I ran over to that pipe and did the same thing I saw you doing and t-then… I was p-put here, or there, in that…"

"In the park," Maura finishes for him and rests her chin on the top of James' head. "James, you really shouldn't have."

"But I saw you vanish just like Jane!" James throws back at her and pulls a bit away from his sister, pulling his head off her chest and staring up at her face instead. A glare forms on his brow and he shrugs his way out of Maura's arms. His bottom lip juts a tiny bit forward in a slight pout to match his always stubborn chin.

Maura releases a sigh and looks down at the ground for several seconds, unsure of how to respond. She can't have her little brother mad at her for something like this, especially not right now. If he runs off here, there's no chance that she'll find him.

"James, I know you must've been curious and I'm sorry I wasn't frank with you before, but you should've waited and asked instead of following me her—"

"Maura, where am I?" James interrupts, not caring to hear what he should or shouldn't have done.

It's not like he has the ability to change the past.

"W-what?" Maura asks, looking up to meet her brother's face, the question catching her off guard.

"Where… where are we?" the younger boy asks in a softer tone, suspiciously eying Frost for a few seconds.

Maura's face visibly pales by a few shades as the question settles into her mind, her brain processing every word several times. That is certainly one question she never did and never does want to answer, especially not when it's asked by James of all people. Well, okay, perhaps having Mother or Father asking it would be a tad more challenging and horrifying.

Maura's stomach churns at the thought, and she glances away, darting her eyes around for help on how to answer.

She looks up at Frost for a moment, but he looks more confused than James.

At last, her eyes finally make their way back to James' questioning, expectant face.  
He wants an answer, a straight answer. And Maura knows she can't lie to him right now.

What kind of a lie could she even come up with to explain this?

"Maura, w-what is this… place?" James asks, locking his eyes with Maura's. "And don't tell me I'm dreaming, I know I'm not."

Maura sighs and grabs hold of James' forearm, gripping it gently and in a caring manner. She looks down once again, unsure of how to begin. She subconsciously runs her thumb across her brother's forearm, as if comforting him for the blow.

"James, you won't believe me," she says quietly, bowing her head a smidge.

"Maura, tell me."

The older girl releases another sigh and looks up, meeting James' innocent face once again, wearing the tiniest of smiles. "Alright, James, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to… run off, okay? You have to try and believe me, alright?"

The younger boy's glare turns into a creased look of slight confusion.

He chews on his lower lip in concentration, letting his eyes run across the look on Maura's face, noting how nervous and anxious she looks about having to tell him the honest answer of where they are. It must be something fairly unbelievable.

But how could putting a name on this strange place be anymore horrifying than actually being here?

Despite his nervous sister, James hesitantly nods his head in agreement.

* * *

Jane hurries down the basement steps and flips on a light in the process, illuminating the dusty storage room enough so that she can find her way back to the open boxes she hopes contain more secrets than what she's already found out.

She finds the box and immediately plunges her hands in, her arms sinking in up past her elbows.

However, she can only feel around the box. It's too high up and too dark for her to see what any of the items are, and this time she didn't think of bringing a flashlight down with her.

She grunts and retracts her arms, stepping back for a moment and taking a deep breath to calm her racing nerves.

She needs to calm down. She shouldn't be this worked up over a silly, little journal.  
Anyways, if there is another journal that reveals the answers she wants of her future and Maura's… wouldn't she be more worked up on trying to fulfill everything the journal says, attempting to make certain things happen that fate has already planned out for her despite whether or not she's aware of it?

She closes her eyes for a few seconds and tells her mind to calm down.

Instead of attempting to find a better source of light in the dark basement she wraps her arms around the large box and lifts it from its resting place, cradling it in her grip as she slowly makes her way to the steps and back up to the first floor of her grandparents' house.

Making her way to the living room, Jane plops the brown box down in the middle of floor, not caring whom else is in the room at the moment. She's too lost in her thoughts to care.

She kneels next to the box and peers in, reaching her hands in as well.  
She sifts through the items, pausing as she comes to a photograph with familiar faces.

She pauses and pulls it out of the box, sitting back on her heels as she holds the frame in her hands. She blows at the old glass, clearing the dust away so she can get a better view of the smiling, yet serious, faces that stare back up at her, their emotions forever locked in a specific moment of time.

It's not exactly a family portrait; it's only Maura and James posing together for a nice portrait that they'd never imagine to be in the hands of a brown locked girl 100 years in the future. Surely no one ever even thinks of that when a photo is taken. They merely smile for the picture, knowing it'll end up hanging on the wall and looking nice for any visitors. However, when that flash goes off their thoughts are nowhere near wondering about what kind of descendant will find this image in the future.

"Having fun?" an older, trembling voice pops up and startles Jane as she's running her fingers across the worn glass.

She turns her head and meets her grandfather's face as the older man enters the room with no cane, despite how severely hunched over he is. Of course, he's much too stubborn to admit that he could use the aid of a cane or a walker; he does fine on his own – in his mind, at least.

Jane watches as her grandfather eases himself down onto one of the couch cushions, his face relaxing at the relief of finally sitting down.

"Just getting a head start on clearing out the basement," she replies and glances back down at the frame in her hands, smiling softly at Maura's grinning face. It looks to be like a more "recent" photograph of the two siblings, from the looks of James, at least. However, putting any young boy in a nice suit can make him look to be a couple years older than he truly is.

A weary laughter meets Jane's ear, causing her to look up at her grandfather once again.

"Jane, you do know that clearing out the basement is more than moving the boxes to a different place in the house, right?" the older man asks with a toothy grin, obviously teasing his granddaughter.

Jane nods and sets the photograph down on the carpeted floor, peering back into the box.

There seems to be more photographs and some old school books, but nothing quite like the journal that's resting on her bed upstairs in the guestroom. She releases a heavy sigh and moves some of the items to the side, hoping that there's something else hidden beneath some of the loose-leaf papers.

"Are you searching for something?" her grandfather peeps up again after a couple minutes, already having tuned the TV into some game show with the volume turned much louder than necessary.

Jane looks across the room at her grandfather and chews on her lower lip, considering asking him a question.

It won't hurt to merely ask, will it?  
It's only a little question; it's no big deal.

"Grandpa," Jane begins in a slightly vulnerable voice, sounding like a child all over again, "do you know if J—" She stops herself from saying the name. "Do you know if _your dad_ had any more of those journals?"

She waits patiently; watching her grandfather ponder the question, processing it in the few seconds that pass that feel more like an eternity in Jane's mind.

The older man creases his brow, his mouth moving as if he's chewing on something, and asks softly, "What journals?"

Jane sighs and stands up from her kneeling position beside the box. "I don't know," she explains quietly, "I found this journal thing in that box and I was… curious if you know if there's another one like it."

"What was the journal about?"

Jane bows her head slightly, unsure of whether to beat around the bush or give a straight answer.  
After lifting her head and meeting her grandpa's pleasant face, she settles on the latter.

"It's mostly about M-Maura," she stutters out softly, amazed at how quiet her voice is. And, of course, because of the television volume and her grandfather's not so excellent hearing, she's forced to repeat herself. "The journal's mostly about Maura."

"Maura?" the older man asks and fumbles with the remote as he hits the mute button.

The brown locked teen sighs, replying, "You know, Maura? Your… aunt?"

Her grandfather nods his head, wearily waving his hand as he releases a soft chuckle. "Yes, yes, I know _who_ Maura is. I'm surprised you know who she is."

Jane's cheeks darken, and she slowly makes her way over to the couch to join her grandpa. Taking a seat, she avoids eye contact the entire time. "I learned a lot from the journal, I guess," she explains quietly, creating an excuse off the top of her head.

The older man nods at her response, staring off into the distance as if he's reliving some event in his mind, his lips curling up into a gentle smile at whatever memories are replaying fresh in his mind. "My dad used to tell us so many stories about Maura," he muses with a soft laugh. "So many adventures…"

Jane watches as her grandfather laughs at his own thoughts, wishing she could know those stories, too.

After some time, Jane asks in a determined, yet gentle, voice, bringing her grandfather out of his thoughts, "Grandpa, Maura's not really dead… is she?"

Her grandfather shakes his head in response. "No, far from it," he replies with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling.

A weight seems to be lifted off of Jane at those words. Sure, she knew Maura didn't exactly die on that date, but there's no guarantee that she survived in wherever she ran off to.

Upon hearing her grandfather laugh once again, a look of merry plastered on his face, Jane looks up at him curiously. At a glance it seems he has as many secrets as any of James' journals.

Jane clears her throat. "Grandpa, w-what else can you tell me about Maura?"

* * *

"The f-f-future?" James questions, finding it a little more than difficult to stutter the ridiculous words out past his tongue. He can't remember a time where he's spoken such insanity, or even a time when he was told and begged to believe such nonsense.

However, as he stares his older sister directly in the face and receives the same stiff head nod in response, the laughter that had escaped his lips only moments before doesn't seem so hilarious as it echoes back in his head.

"Maura, you can't be serious," the younger boy says, the humored smile faltering on his lips.

He keeps receiving that same head nod and serious stare from his sister, the same kind Father always gives him.

James glances away from Maura, averting his eyes to steal a quick look up at that silent man standing next to them. He hasn't uttered a word. He's merely been standing there watching them with a look full of confusion.

"Can you believe her?" James asks the man, evidently startling him from his blank stare.

Frost blinks a few times, his eyes widening as he realizes the young boy asked him a question. "Sorry, what?"

"Her!" James says and points at his sister while keeping his eyes locked with the other boy's. "Can you believe the… the nonsense she's trying to get me to believe? She's telling me it's 2008!"

Frost opens his mouth to respond, but he's at a loss for anything besides useless mumblings.

"James, I'm not lying," Maura says firmly and cups her brother's chin in her hand, turning his head until he has no other option but to look her square in the eye. "And I'm not joshing you, okay?"

The younger boy clenches his jaw, refusing to admit to such a ridiculous concept.

It's obviously a lie. How could it be true?

They live in 1908. There's no way to get to 2008.

"Look, James, I didn't believe it at first either, ok? I know it doesn't make sense, trust me, I know," Maura says with an honest laugh. "But you have to try and believe me. Please?"

James looks away from Maura's face for a few seconds, his jaw moving from side to side in concentration.

"What about Jane?"

Maura's face falls slightly at the mention of a topic she'd rather be avoiding right now. "W-what about her?"

James sighs and looks back at his sister. "Where is she?"

Maura shakes her head and furrows brow at such a question, not seeing what that even has to do with anything. "She's at her grandparents' house, like I told you before."

"With her grandparents in 1908 or in…" James trails off.

"In 2008," Maura finishes, nodding her head.

James blinks several times to rid of his confusion, attempting to wrap his mind around all of this information thrown at him all at once. It's a lot for an eight year old to process, and it's definitely not easy to just accept something that sounds so absurd.

"Wait," James speaks up in the midst of his thoughts.

Maura leans down farther so she can peek up at James, "Hmm?"

"Does that mean," James asks, moving his eyes to meet his sister's, "that Jane is from…" He trails off, his voice already fairly light and breathy as he asked the question. He just can't seem to get his tongue to form "2008" or "future" anymore.

But Maura is already nodding in response, seeming to understand exactly what her younger brother is trying to say.

"She is," the older the sibling clarifies with a gentle smile, never daring to let go of the eye contact with her younger brother.

They're silent for a few moments, both of them at a loss for anything else to add. There's already so much for their minds to deal with; they don't need to add to the mess.

"Come on," Maura says and stands up from the ground, carelessly brushing off her knees. She stretches out her right hand, holding it palm up as an invite for her younger brother to grab hold of. She watches as the young boy hesitates, his shoulders lifting as he takes in a deep breath and glances at Maura's outstretched hand. "We can't be standing around here forever," Maura adds on quietly.

She smiles as a weight falls into her open palm and five tiny fingers wrap their way around her hand, holding on tightly.

James never fully admitted to believing that this is indeed the future, but accepting his sister's hand as a sort of guidance in this strange place is more than enough understanding for Maura.

Without saying another word the group of three continues on down the sidewalk, Maura leading them the same direction that Frost had previously done. Her brother walks beside her, his small hand securely held in Maura's. Neither would let go for the world.

After a block or so, Frost, who was silently following the two like a robot, finally finds his voice.

"Wait, you two are siblings?" he asks in an incredulous voice.

Maura glances over her shoulder, not missing a step and replies simply, "Yes."

Frost stops moving, causing Maura and James to do likewise and turn around to face him curiously.

"Then that means," Frost begins, his face fading in color as he points at the two in front of him, from one to the other and back again, continually. "T-that means you're both from… the past," he finishes in a whisper, his huge, paranoid eyes darting around the streets to make sure no one overheard them.

"Yes," Maura agrees as her forehead creases in slight confusion, unable to understand why Jane's friend seems to be freaking out so much.

"Shit!" Frost shouts in the form of a whisper, slapping his forehead with his open hand. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! NO! What are you two doing here?" he asks, not waiting long enough for an answer before continuing, "you shouldn't be here! Neither one of you! This is not good, this is so not fucking good!"

Both siblings stare at Frost with troubled looks, though slightly humored by his sudden outburst.

"I can't believe this!" he continues ranting to himself, keeping his voice low enough that only the three of them can hear. He begins fidgeting with his hands, his eyes widening to what seems to be no end. "No, no, no, this isn't good. We can't have two people here; it's going to fuck with the… hell, I don't know, the time continuum or some shit like that! I don't know! I'm not a fucking time travel expert!"

He lowers his voice, darting his eyes around again.

"Both of you have to leave, now!" he finally says, coming to a conclusion. "Do you realize how much you two could fuck up the future if you stay here for too long? You stay here, you learn about stuff you shouldn't even know exists, then you go home and blab about it to some genius scientist or make it yourself in your basement and then the whole future is messed up!"

"Frost," Maura says in a calm voice, gaining the boy's attention, "we're not going to mess with anything, okay?"

The older boy adamantly shakes his head, pursing his lips together. "No. You don't think you will, but you will. I can't believe you're both still standing here talking, just… god! Get back to your own… _time_."

Maura shakes her head and turns back around, beginning to walk again. "We're not going back yet, _I_ can't go back yet," she replies as James falls into step beside her and she hears Frost stumbling after them.

"And why not?" Frost dares to ask.

Maura refuses to leak an answer, her jaw clenched in the silence to hold back any forgotten tears at the thought of the reason why.

James glances up at his sister and squeezes her hand as he answers for her, "Byron."

"Byron?" Frost asks, keeping a fairly close distance to the two siblings. "Who's he?"

"I don't wish to speak about it," Maura replies and spreads a dead silence upon them for a few moments.

However, after a minute or so has passed, James explains it all with one simple answer.

"Byron thinks he can be as close to Maura as Jane is. He can't."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Stories and Questions **

Jane waltzes into the guest bedroom a little after midnight on the same day she learned one of many secrets that her grandfather has been holding dear for so long. She's on such a high from the new knowledge that she can't even wash the grin from her lips as she closes the bedroom door behind her and begins pulling her t-shirt up and over her head on her way over to the bed.

She yawns while messily folding and discarding her shirt and getting a new one for bed, but not even her fatigue can rid of the smile scrunching up her features. Her mind is swimming with so many questions; she'd be in the other room pounding her grandfather with question after question if she could have it her way.

Fortunately for her grandfather, Jane has some self-control.

Anyways, what would be the fun of learning all the family secrets in one day?

She might as well keep the rest for another occasion. It's not like Jane is leaving this place anytime soon. She still has weeks of summer vacation left before heading home.

Stripping down and putting on some running shorts, she sits on the side of the bed and leans over to pull off her socks before throwing them to lie with the rest of her day's laundry near the foot of the bed, where her eyes automatically stick to the leather-bound journal that's still lying against the sheets.

Jane's smile widens, if possible, and she stretches toward the foot of the bed to retrieve the forgotten object.

Picking it up, she turns it over in her hands, letting her eyes run across the faded leather in the dim light from the bedside lamp. She breathes in deeply through a smirk as she leans back against the pillows, swinging her legs up onto the bed in the process.

A few hours before, that journal was driving Jane insane. It was like a holy grail, some immaculate connection between the past and future that seemed to hold so many of the answers she's been longing for, finally giving closure to all those uncertainties of Maura's future.

But it's just a silly, little journal that ended much too soon.

It may be a connection to the past, making Jane feel closer to Maura while they're apart, but it's definitely no holy grail.

All the answers she's looking for have been closer than he expected, hidden and kept secret by his very own grandfather.

"Just a journal," Jane says in a quiet voice, laughing softly as she turns her upper body sideways to place the diary on the bedside table, and that's when her eyes fall on her cell resting at the base of the lamp. The sides of the phone are glowing, signaling a missed call.

She picks it up and flips the screen open, the display illuminating her face in the faint light of the bedroom.

_1 missed call, 1 message_, the display reads.

She scrolls through a couple menus and shrugs as she finds out the missed call was only from Frost, and with remembrances of past summers, Jane's guess is that Frost probably forgot that she was out of town. Again.

However, Jane dials the number for her voicemail and waits for the computerized lady's voice to announce the whole intro of, "_You have one new message. New message…_"

For a few seconds there's nothing more than silence, but just as Jane's about to delete the dead-air message, she hears some shuffling noises and sniffles on the recording. Her brow creases at the sounds and she presses her right ear closed in hopes of better hearing of the soft noises in the message.

After a few more seconds of shuffling and sniffling, a faint voice speaks, "_Here._"  
It's clearly not directed toward the phone, but the microphone seems to have picked up the voice nonetheless.

And it's the familiarity of the voice that causes Jane to jump upright and swing her legs back over the edge of the bed as her eyes nearly bulge out of her head.

There's no way that could be the voice she thinks it is.

"_You're done talking to her?_" Frost's clear voice asks in response, again not spoken in the direction of the phone.

Jane leans her elbows on her knees, hunched over with her right ear still plugged in hopes of better hearing, just as that eerily familiar voice responds back with a soft and tearful, "_She wasn't there._"

There are another few seconds of silence and far off noises that resemble those of someone attempting to wipe away their tears, constantly sniffling and breathing in deep, trembling breaths.

Jane bites her lower lip, her eyes still wide.  
She knows that voice, she could place it anywhere, but there is no possible way it could be who she believes.

However, when the faint message plays a short, muffled recording of Frost giving some quick tips on how to end the call, Jane's suspicions are confirmed.

She ends the call with voicemail as quickly as she can and dials one of her first few contacts. Her legs begin bouncing with anxiety as she hears three ringing tones and, as if playing a sick joke with her freaking-out-mind, a fourth one follows, sending her call straight to voicemail.

She releases a heavy, aggravated sigh and ends the call before she even hears the beep to leave a message. She doesn't have time for that. Taking deep breaths as her heart begins racing, she hits the redial button, muttering, "Pick up, pick up, pick up!" until, at last, there's a faint click followed by a very tired, grungy greeting.

"Frost!" Jane shouts, straightening up for a moment before immediately hunching back over and dropping her forehead into her empty right hand. She closes her eyes and doesn't wait for a response, "What the hell was that message? That couldn't have been her! I mean, why would she be calling me? _How_ would she be calling me? It wasn't her. Wait, fuck, was she there? Or here? Frost! Shit, man, stop your loud-ass snoring and fucking answer me!"

A very long and very tired sigh follows.

Apparently Frost isn't in as much of a rush as Jane is.

And at last there's a simple answer, "Yeah."

Jane lets out a loud groan of irritation, not caring as she hears rustling coming from the other bed in the guestroom – meaning she probably woke her brother. She could care less. She rubs at her forehead, her eyes falling shut as she attempts to calm her freaked heart. Her legs are still jittering apprehensively, and she's doing her best not to strangle her phone at the moment.

"_Yeah_, what, Frost? Yeah, she was here? Yeah, it wasn't her? Fuck, give me a straight answer!"

"Jane, yeah, she was here. Maura was here, okay? And so was her brother, James I think is his name?" Frost replies in a voice still infected with dozy sleep.

"James was here?" Jane yells, standing up from the bed to begin pacing around a few square meters of the room, slightly rubbing at her forehead. "What the hell were they doing here?"

Frost releases yet another lengthy, fatigued sigh, "Something about some guy. Byron?"

"Byron," Jane says in a breathy whisper, taking a few moments before remembering exactly who he is. She only slightly remembers hearing the name at first, but in a moment's time, it hits her flat in the face. "Shit, that guy, Byron! What about him?"

"I don't know, the little kid said some crap about him thinking he can be as close to Maura as you are, whatever that means. All I know is that Maura was literally crying about whatever he did. Who is he anyways? Do you know him?" Frost asks, his voice becoming more alert as the minutes pass.

Jane releases a bitterly annoyed sigh and retakes her seat on the edge of the bed, perching her forehead back into her open palm. "Yeah, yeah," she begins softly, a sour tone in her voice, "I know who he is. He's this… guy that Maura's parents kind of set her up with."

"… _Kind of_ set her up with?" Frost asks in a hesitant voice, obviously not liking the sound of this.

There's another sigh on Jane's end of the line as she gingerly rubs her forehead. "Her mom wants them to get married, but her mom is also psychotic, alright? It's not like Maura even likes Byron in the first place."

"Jane!" Frost yells in the form of a whisper, "are you crazy? Now you're telling me you're getting in the way of a planned marriage from a century ago? Do you have a fucking death note?"

"I don't have a death note. I already know they're not going to get married. I'm not getting in the way of anything, Frost."

"Dude, will you stop with your wishful thinking?"

"I'm not talking about fucking wishful thinking, Frost!" Jane's voice is strict and brushing upon vehement by the time she adds on, "I know she's not going to marry that guy, alright? I'm not altering history any more than it already has been."

"Fine," Frost replies quietly, agreeing to defeat for the time being. It's too late to blow this into a flat out argument over the phone and he already spent enough of his day trying to get the two time travelers back home before anyone else found out.

Releasing a weary sigh, Jane falls backward onto her bed and stares up at the dark ceiling as she asks curiously, "So where's Maura? They're not still here, are they?"

"No, thank god they aren't," Frost responds with a grateful laugh. "But I finally got them to go back home to the early 1900s where they belong."

Jane breathes in deeply, repeating underneath her breath, "Right, the early 1900s… where they belong… Hey, why didn't you try calling me again? If you guys called, like, twenty times I probably would've heard it at some point or another."

"Didn't think about it, I guess. I was so freaked out about trying to get them to go back that trying to call you was the last thing on my mind, I swear. Maura must really hate that Byron dude, I mean, she was seriously upset about something," Frost continues, remembering how difficult it was to finally convince Maura and her brother to go back to that park and use that time portal thing.

Frost still doesn't understand how it works.

No one does.

But, hey, if it'll get those two back to where they need to be without altering the time line of events too much, then he'll go along with whatever, no matter how insane it is.

"I hope it wasn't too drastic, whatever happened," Jane whispers, her mind flipping through all the possible worst-case scenarios, none of which are terribly reassuring. She shudders at the mental image of some guy kissing her Maura, and her stomach churns with bitter turmoil. "She didn't say what was wrong?" she asks, hoping that, at the least, her friend can confirm that what her crazy mind is cooking up didn't happen.

However, Frost replies with a slightly regretful, "Nope, she wouldn't leak a single specific. She just kept mumbling about not being able to go back yet and needing you."

Jane allows her eyelids to fall shut as she releases a deep breath. "This summer is going to kill me, Frost, I swear," she says softly, sounding one hundred percent genuine. "Was she okay by the time you forced her back home?"

"She seemed better, I guess," Frost's voice comes from the other end of the call, sounding slightly groggy by the time it meets Jane's ears. "But next time she shows up here, you get to deal with her. You know I hate this whole… _time travel_ shit or whatever the hell it is, messing with the time line."

The brown locked girl, lying on the bed, rolls her eyes at her friend's continual worry, saying quietly, "Frost, trust me, if I could've dealt with it I would have. Listen, I'm going to let you go… thanks for helping Maura out, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Frost replies and ends the call without even bothering with a goodbye.

Jane sighs inwardly and closes her phone, raising it to an angle to stare at it for a few seconds, guilt creeping up on her for not having it in her possession several hours before.

Maura needed her and she wasn't there.

She turns the phone in her hands and flips the volume back on, switching the phone to automatically ring with a call versus vibrating, seeing as a silly vibration didn't grab her attention earlier. Setting the phone on the nightstand, she steals one last glare at it before turning the switch on the lamp to send the bedroom back into faintly moonlit darkness.

She rearranges herself underneath the covers and settles in against the pillows for a long, torturous night of attempting to keep Maura and the rest of their future off her mind, every millimeter of her body filled with anticipation and curiosity of all the other untold stories her grandfather has tucked away with her childhood memories.

While she lies restless in her bed, she's completely unaware of her brother lying awake on the other side of the room after being awoken by and overhearing a rather confusing one-sided conversation about Jane, Maura, and the early 1900s…

* * *

"Maura Dorthea, weren't you out with Byron yesterday afternoon?" Maura's mother asks partway through breakfast the following morning. The Isles family, with the exception of Maura's father, is seated at a table in the dining room, surrounded by a fairly small variety of bakery goods. Maura's mother is at one head of the table, the facing chair empty, while Maura and James are seated on opposite sides of the table.

The older child pauses in midst of her eating and lowers a piece of toast from her mouth, holding it above her almost empty plate as she responds curtly, "Yes, Mother, I was."

"And you two went somewhere else?" she asks, not looking at her daughter as she speaks. She's much too preoccupied with the task of smearing a small wad of butter across her bland toast. "I was expecting you to return with him for supper last evening."

Maura takes a long bite of her toast and chews slowly, her heart already skipping a beat at the very clear path of where this conversation will soon lead.

However, she swallows and responds in a calm voice with no hint of a lie, "Something came up."

"Something came up?" her mother repeats, her eyes shifting over to meet her daughter's for a few squandered seconds.

"Yes, Mother, something came up and Byron had to get home," she says smoothly, the white lie easily sliding off her tongue to bask in the stiff morning air.

The older woman clears her throat as she turns her eyes back to the crisp bread in her hands, placing the butter knife to balance on the edge of her plate. She raises her eyebrows slightly, a look of dislike faintly washing over her features, apparently not appreciating the snippy attitude in her daughter's voice.

For a few moments a tense silence falls over the three as they munch on their food, keeping their eyes on their plates.

"And where did you run off to, James?" their mother asks in attempt of a lighter voice, glancing over at her youngest son with curious eyes.

The young boy jumps at the question being directed toward him and drops his spoon back into his bowl of cooling oatmeal. His face pales by three shades of white, his eyes widen and skirt about the table until finally landing on his mother's face. "W-what?" he asks in a strangled voice, nearly choking on the food still in his mouth.

"Yesterday afternoon, you ran off somewhere, didn't you? Were you with somebody from school?" Their mother watches James' peculiar behavior with the utmost curiosity.

"I, uh, I-I was—"

"He was with me, Mother," Maura speaks up, attracting her mother's attention away from his blabbering brother.

"He was with you? I thought you were with Byron?"

"I was." Maura nods stiffly, formulating the fake story in her head. "James was with me, after Byron had gone back to his home. Then I took James out for a bit. He seemed much too restless to sit around the house all day."

"Hmm," the older woman hums softly, her eyebrows still raised in slight disbelief as she returns her vision back to her breakfast plate. "And where is it, exactly, you two spent the entire day and evening?"

"Only around town, nowhere of great importance." The siblings look at one another, the younger looking quite terrified by the fact that Maura was able to lie straight to their mother's face.

However, she lied quite smoothly and only partially.

True, they were only around town.

They were exploring the town in a hundred years time, which is only a minor discrepancy, right?

* * *

The days passed slowly, each twenty-four hour period elongating itself to the point of near torture until Jane took a step back and realized not only one, nor two, but three weeks had passed since she had taken a look at the calendar hanging on the wall in her grandparents' kitchen.

The brown locked teen looks ahead a few days and flips the page from July to August, her smile brightening at the few short weeks that remain.

A few short weeks and she can return home.

A few short weeks and she can see Maura.

_Maura_.

She lets the calendar page fall from her hands, the month of July now fully in view once again as the smile collapses from her lips.

She's been doing so well, not moping about the house like a lost puppy at the thought of missing Maura.

And then there have been a few moments where her mind has flickered back to that angelic face, seeing it lit by rays of sunlight seeping through the cracks in that abandoned shed, masked by the shadows. She could feel Maura's lavish hair tickling the pads of her fingers as she runs them through the locks. She could feel those naïve, trembling breaths being exhaled against her chin or her neck, alerting her senses to their maximums. The feeling of a lithe body pressing against hers; the feeling of unsure touches and nervous glances showering over her; the feeling of cold lips touching against hers so lightly that such a meeting shan't even qualify as a kiss…

Memories so vivid that she wants to cry when she snaps back to reality.

She's been yearning for Maura lately, which is clearly positive.

Not just her mind; her body.

Many nights she lies restless in her bed, the sheets thrown to the side as she stares up at the darkened ceiling with heavy, inward sighs.

She lets her eyelids surrender to the fatigue pulling them down, and all she sees is Maura's blushing face, or her shy smiles as she averts her eyes and ducks her head.

Her mind jumps from memory to memory, touch to touch.

She catches Maura, once again, as she falls from that tree in the back yard of the Isles residence.

She hears Maura whisper that same question of, "Do you… fancy me, Ms. Rizzoli?" while they're hidden away in the depths of that shed back on that one stormy afternoon months before.

She relives the moments, rushing back to that little alcove among the trees behind Maura's home, rushing back to the first time they really touched one another.

She relives every kiss stolen in the shadows.

Her lower body twitches in anticipation, waves of faint arousal gushing against her will, and she turns over in the bed on those nights, facing the wall next to her bed with wide-open eyes, wishing for the yearning to leave her be.

It's on sleepless nights like those that she finds herself wishing she didn't have to share a guestroom with her brother, and eventually, when the longing refuses to let her rest, she sneaks off to the bathroom in the wee hours of the night to make the desire leave.

It's only been the nights that leave her feeling so out of it and wanting to return home as quickly as possible.

However, it's not as if she has the option to forget about Maura during the daylight hours either.

Especially since her grandfather has been leaking information by the spoonfuls every day.

Though, the stories have not left her aching with the desire to see Maura. Instead, she's been looking forward to all the little stories her grandfather has to tell, passing them down from his father, James.

Actually, "stories" may not be the proper description.

For they're not fiction; they're far from it, to be honest. They're merely retellings of each and every one of James' encounters with Maura and some friend in the future – the _actual future_; years, even decades after Jane's time.

Maura may have gone missing, never to be seen or heard of again for many years, but not entirely.

She had a visitor from home.

James.

"He'd leave and be gone for several hours on the weekends, almost like she'd disappear for an entire day," Jane's grandfather speaks of his own father one afternoon. The older man is seated on one end of the couch in the living room, slightly hunched over. His eyes hold a vaguely distant look, as if he's not entirely in the present while recalling the stories he was told as a child.

"Then he'd return and he'd always have so many stories to tell, which meant nothing to me back then." Her grandfather closes his eyes as a tight grin tugs at his face in remembrance and irony. "As children, we saw them as nothing more than adventure stories; tall tales of a possible future where people would be able to sit down in front of a lit screen and connect with people all the way on the other side of the globe."

Jane's eyes widen as she sits across from her grandfather, listening to his words like they're the most precious and important words she's ever heard. "You mean James went, or came, or whatever to… our time?" Her voice is near astonishment.

The man smiles a cheerful grin and nods as he shifts on the couch cushion. "He did, he did," he confirms softly. "He went for visits a couple times a month, always staying in contact."

"That often?"

"Mhm," the old man hums, his eyes only mere slits, hidden by his scrunched up cheeks as he takes a little trip down memory lane. "He always told us he was going to visit Maura and Maura's… _friend_, then he'd always come back with a handful of new tales to share. I always assumed Maura was some sort of storyteller or something, giving our dad a new batch of stories to tell us when he'd return…"

The teen smiles and shifts her vision to the coffee table separating her from her grandfather. Her smile fades slightly as the man's words repeat in her mind. "Wait," she begins quietly, her chin resting in her hand, her brow furrowing a smidge, "Maura's friend?"

The grandfather opens his eyes completely, the lush brown color faded with age. He looks across at his granddaughter, blinking a few times as his smile disappears as well. "Yes?" he asks, a hint of confusion in his voice. "What about them?"

"Who…" Jane falters, her eyes drifting from her grandfather's, to the floor, and back again. "Who's her… friend?"

A jolly, raspy laughter meets Jane's ear, forcing her to look at her grandfather only to find him shaking with humored delight.

Jane forces on a stiff smile, trying to laugh along. Assuming that her grandfather is once more laughing at something that exists only in his mind, Jane smiles and pretends to know what's so hilarious.

"Sorry, who's Maura's, uh, friend?" Jane repeats in a sheepish voice after the older man's laughter subsides. She ducks her head slightly, rubbing at the nape of her neck with a sweating palm.

"Well, from what my father always told me," Jane looks up to meet her grandfather's eyes, "her name was Jane."

Jane smiles until the name sinks into her ears, causing her to freeze.

Her hand falls from her neck and into her lap, her jaw lowering to speak. "Jane?" She sounds dumbfounded.

The older man nods with that same gleeful smile adorning his entire face.

"Jane, like…" the teenager trails off, her eyes falling to the ground with her voice.

But her grandfather confirms the suspicion without ever hearing the full question.

"Like you."

Jane raises her eyes. "Me?" she asks in disbelief, surprised and terribly embarrassed that her grandfather knows of her and Maura. "You mean," Jane begins, taking a deep breath as she glances around the living room, "she's with me? When you said her friend, I thought you meant…"

She trails off to silence, seeing her grandfather shake his head in response.

"No, there's no one else, Jane," the older man says in a gentle, almost reassuring voice. "The friend is you."

"Me?"

"You."

* * *

There's a muffled knock on the bedroom door. Maura releases an inaudible sigh and looks over her shoulder from her position near the window that faces the backyard. "Yes?" she asks in a snappy voice, currently in no mood for any visitors unless their name happens to be Jane.

When the door opens, any hint of slight happiness that may have been sneaking around her face quickly disappears at the identification of her visitor.

"Byron," she says under her breath, her eyes widening and her cheeks inevitably darkening as the handsome man steps foot into her bedroom for the first time. "W-what brings you here?" she stutters out in question, taking two steps back until she runs into the wall, mildly freaking out as Byron walks closer to her.

"Your mother let me in. I hope that's alright," he says quietly, smiling sweetly while striding fully into the room. "Are you feeling well? You look pale…"

"I-I, I'm fine." She swallows thickly. "I'm surprised to see you, that's all, really." She forces on the tiniest of smiles.

It has been a few weeks since Maura has seen him. She's been avoiding him at all costs, coming up with excuses of having to run off to town for some indescribable item or having family issues to deal with, meaning she couldn't meet up with him for whatever reason.

She thought she'd be safe in her own home.

She was wrong.

Before another word is uttered between the two, Maura finds herself squished up against the wall as Byron wraps his arms around her body in a close, loving hug, holding on snuggly.

"Oh, Maura," he breaths out quietly, clearly smiling. "I was so worried. I haven't seen you in days – no, weeks! And first you… you vanished. Oh, Maura, I'm so glad you're alright." His grip tightens around Maura's upper arms.

Maura glances over at the body hugging onto her, wishing she could pry it off, but some tiny voice forces her to lightly wrap her arms around the man's form to return the hug. Though, of course, she holds on as lightly as she possibly can.

"Vanished?" she asks softly, trying to sound as if she has no clue what she's speaking of. "What do you mean?"

"You!" Byron says in an astonished voice, pulling his head away from Maura's to look at her. "A couple weeks ago, when we were in your yard… We were discussing future plans."

_Right, "we" were discussing future plans_, Maura thinks to herself in a sardonic inner voice.

"And you…" he continues only to trail off. "You, I swear, you vanished!"

Maura chuckles, walking her way out of Byron's grasp to move to the opposite side of the room. "Byron, please," she begins in a skeptical voice, "vanished? Don't be silly. What are you suggesting, exactly?"

"I don't know!" His eyes are abnormally large, practically the same size they were when he actually saw Maura vanish. "You were there one second and then the next you were… gone!"

The honey blonde shakes her head, looking as if she's listening to complete nonsense. "Now tell me," she clears her throat, "if I were to have actually vanished, where did I go?"

Byron opens his mouth to respond, but he quickly closes it in defeat. "I must have been seeing things, I suppose," he admits quietly, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Maura smiles softly. "Good, because people can't vanish, can they?"

Byron looks at her, trying to hide a sheepish smile. "Of course not," he agrees, seeing the insanity in his own words.

He breathes out a long sigh, telling himself he was certainly imagining things, and turns to face the same window Maura was at when he barged in. Looking down at the vacant yard, his eyes fall on the water pump; the exact spot in which he swears Maura vanished a few weeks before. Shaking his head, he forces his thoughts to move onto something else, something not so farfetched.

"Maura?" he speaks up after a couple minutes of near silence has passed between the two.

Maura glances over her shoulder to find Byron standing with his back to her. "Hmm?"

There's the sound of a deep breath before the dreadful question is asked, bringing Maura back to an issue she had so longed to forget.

"On that same day, we were discussing something else, too. Remember?" He turns around, only to find Maura's back facing him. However, she still manages a visible head nod in response. "I… I was wondering if you've had the chance to, oh, I don't know… consider what I said? I want you to know, that every word I said, I meant. I am ready."

Maura swallows thickly, the air coming into her mouth making a sharp sound. She takes a few steps toward the door, hesitating with an answer; her back still turned toward Byron. "Uh," she begins in a voice nearly too soft to be heard, "I… I'll have to take some time to think about it, okay?"

"Okay," Byron agrees, a taste of disappointment in his tone. "Like I said before, when you are as ready as I am."

Maura releases an inward sigh and sinks her head, her eyes lowering to the ground, praying that she won't be forced to make this decision before Jane returns.

* * *

The weeks continue to pass; the stories are continually shared between grandfather and granddaughter, revealing more to Jane than she could have bargained for. The summer begins to fly by; the days passing so quickly that Jane is surprised to find herself huddled up in the guest room with only four more nights remaining.

She enters the room with a small box tucked beneath her left arm. It's a typical brown box, not entirely too large. It is, perhaps, large enough to store a few average-size, hardback novels.

The brown locked teen makes her way to her unmade bed and scoots herself up to rest against the pillows and headboard, the box now settled in her lap.

It's from her grandfather.

The old man had lead Jane into his bedroom earlier that evening, telling her that he has had a surprise tucked away for her for quite a long time. He didn't tell her much about it; he merely pulled out the box from its hiding spot in the very rear of the one closet and handed it to Jane, telling her that he's had this for many, many years.

And as she settles herself on the top of the mattress and slides her fingertips under the one flap of the box, tearing the packing tape, she feels a surge of excited apprehension pulse through her veins.

The reason being, it's technically from James.

She takes a deep breath as she opens all four flaps of the box, revealing the contents to her curious eyes.

There's a stack of items, neatly packaged and tied together, resting in the center of the box.

They're in mint condition, as if never before touched, which they probably never have been since placed into the box and left to rest until this day.

She pulls out the stack of items, tied together by a piece of thin, flat rope, and discards the now empty box to the foot of the bed to lie with the wrinkled sheets. Trying to keep her nerves fairly calm, she fumbles with the single, bowed knot, pulling the end of the one string to untie it.

She carefully removes each item from the stack, touching and treating them as if they're artifacts in a museum and she's breaking the rule of, "Please do not touch."

There's an envelope, a small folder – almost a binder, that she quickly realizes is a photo album, and a leather-bound book that she at once identifies as another journal.

She smiles softly, feeling like she's a child sitting behind the biggest item from her wish list on Christmas morning.

Glancing over at the open bedroom door and seeing no one in the hallway, she picks up the envelope first and holds it in her hands for a few seconds, allowing her eyes to survey the faded, white, rectangular paper.

It's nothing too exuberantly exciting.

It's plain, besides the small fact of her name neatly printed across the front in unfamiliar penmanship.

Taking a breath that makes her shoulders rise a good inch, she flips over the envelope and breaks the seal, pulling out the folded piece of thin paper from inside.

She turns the paper in her hands, holding onto it with only the pads of her fingers, as if afraid of ripping it while unfolding the document. She looks down at a small letter addressed to her and no other, her eyes quickly running across the lines of words before she takes the time to read it.  
_  
Jane,_

I'll take it that by the time you're reading this, you're well aware of what's to come. I'll also assume that you've heard quite a handful of stories over the summer, leading up to now, the day I told your grandfather (my son) to finally pass these down to you.

I won't waste your time talking in this letter, for this letter isn't even important. I've enclosed a couple items that I believe you'll enjoy having around in your future. It's nothing large and certainly not something that you'll be displaying for the world to see.

The photo album isn't nearly as informative, but it has some photos from quite a few of our future visits.

I suggest you read the journal soon, preferably before you return to Maura after summer break.

Take your time and don't rush too much over the next few days.

Everything from the stories you've heard will happen.

Much love from your great-grandfather,

James

Jane finds herself staring at the letter in her hands for a few minutes after reading it, her eyes fogging over for no apparent reason. She blinks to clear her vision and refolds the letter, regaining the control to move her body. She sniffs lightly, an eerie feeling washing through her body at the thought of the past and the future and how quickly this inevitable future is going to be falling into place.

There's so much on her mind, so many questions that she won't have answers to until she encounters the situation.

But right now, she pushes them aside.

Clearing her mind, she places the envelope on the mattress near the discarded string, picking up the leather-bound journal instead.

It's similar to the one she found in the basement nearly two months before, but it doesn't have the same worn-and-torn look. This one looks more cared for, as if kept nice for a reason.

She glances at the journal in her hands and back at the envelope lying a foot or so away.

_James said to read it soon_, she reasons with her mind, her eyes drifting back to the black cover of the journal.

Lightly running her fingers across the journal, she takes the moment to pull back the cover and flip to the first entry, finding the penmanship in this one much more legible than that of the previous.  
_  
21st February 1909_

I visited Maura and Jane today…


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Bittersweet Reunion **

**CHAPTER RATED ****_M_**

Jane walks from the open closet back to her bed in the guest room, surveying the area a final time for any left behind items that may have escaped her previous search. She pauses in front of the bed and looks down at her still open duffel bag, the zipper halfway pulled. Tugging the pull the remainder of the way, the zipper sound echoing through the silence, she lifts the filled bag from the mattress and places it near the open bedroom door, resting it against the foot of the bed.

As she looks back at the mattress, her eyes fall on one item she had forgotten to place in the duffel, one item of which she would regret accidentally leaving behind.

She brushes the sheets to the side and clasps her fingers around the leather-bound journal, picking it up from its previously hidden position, apparently having been buried beneath her duffel bag when she had left it on the bed earlier that morning before packing.

Turning it over in her hands, a faint smile graces her lips, a thousand memories of events yet to happen flooding her mind.

It's odd, knowing what will happen in advance through the point of view of someone who isn't even living at the time being. She read of her future, of Maura's future, through the eyes of an older, more mature James. She uncovered their future through sporadic meetings, learning that there are times she and Maura will be disconnected from the past for months, brushing upon an entire year, at a time.

Though, when she thinks it over, she never knows which tense to use.

It seems wrong in her mind to think of it as being in the future, since all of it has already been recorded in an item from the past.

However, in fact, none of the recorded events have even happened yet, despite how much they feel as if they've been written in stone. They're still entitled to the possibility of change.

Jane just hopes, for her sake, that what she's read about will happen.

She doesn't want things to change.

And James did say in the letter that what's meant to happen will happen.

Now all Jane has to do is fulfill the events and not rush things too much.

That should be easy, right?

Yeah, easy, right, simple for anyone besides Jane to say.

Jane releases a slight sigh, pushing the thoughts of what's bound to happen later this day to the very back of her mind, hidden in the hazy darkness, and slips the journal into the left side pocket of her cargo pants. It fits, and she's happy to keep it nearby, as a sort of reference.

But she can't help feeling like a kid sneaking a cheat-sheet into an exam. She feels like she should know the material in that journal word for word, she should know it by heart. Even though she can't be given the answers to all the questions, she's been handed a guide to walk her through the uncertainties. If she follows the outline, the guide, she knows what the outcomes will be.

And she wants those outcomes, the ones she's studied and read for the past four nights straight, to be reality.

There's just this nagging voice in the back of her head, constantly mocking her, telling her she didn't study those entries hard enough, close enough.

It's making her paranoid.

So paranoid that she can't help feeling like she's going to fail the most crucial exam she's ever taken.

Shaking her head to push the paranoia aside for a while, she pulls the sheets up to the pillow before grabbing her duffel bag and carrying it down the stairs where her ma is waiting along with her grandparents. As she reaches the bottom step she pulls on a faint smile, trying her best to push her way out of her foggy thoughts and into reality for a few minutes.

"Oh, Jane, there you are," her mother smiles softly. "You have everything now?"

Jane nods after she realizes the question is directed toward her, still smiling artificially. There are far too many thoughts running through her head.

Nonetheless, she pushes herself through routine goodbyes, stalling as she comes face-to-face with her slightly hunched over grandfather. The brown locked teen takes a moment to place her duffel bag at their feet, freeing her hands as she straightens up and allows her eyes to scan over the older man in front of her.

The older man smiles a crooked grin, his dentures catching a ray of sunlight for a second. "Stop worrying," he says in a low, reassuring voice, sounding far too convincing to Jane's mind.

Jane inhales deeply, nodding as she releases the shaky breath in attempt to calm her nerves. "I know, I know," she replies softly, murmuring so no one overhears them. "I'm trying not to."

"Well, it's been a joy having you here, as always," her grandfather says louder so the others hear him as he embraces his granddaughter in a tight hug. He holds the position longer than a normal embrace, knowing that Jane needs the reassurance most at this time. He tightens his grip momentarily, dropping his voice again as he nearly whispers near Jane's ear, "Bring her to visit."

The granddaughter nods as the two pull apart, her hand subconsciously lowering to rest on the bulge in the pocket of her pants, instinctively tracing the edge of the journal through the material with her fingertips. "I will, I promise," she says with an honest smile.

And she knows she will.

James said so.

After a final round of goodbyes, hugs, and waves sent through the car windows, the car begins to inch down the road, leaving their grandparents' house in the distance.

Jane leans her forehead against the cool glass of the side window, still chilled with a thin layer of condensation from the morning fog, and lets her weary eyes go in and out of focus on the trees passing by as she releases a heavy sigh.

As the leaves of rich green fly past her eyes, she hesitantly allows herself to slip away from consciousness and into her thoughts, where she remains lost for the remainder of the trip back home.

_Home._

The word makes her stomach surge with a tinge of happiness, causing a fuzzy warmness to flutter throughout her body and spread all the way up to the smile forming on her lips. She focuses her eyes on the trees once again, momentarily leaving her thoughts behind to watch the leaves rustling in the breeze. The smile on her sealed lips grows by a smidge at the thoughts the luscious colors of the scenery bring forth in her mind.

Seeing the trees as they drive by, her mind flickers to a luscious yard, bringing it up so fresh in her memory that it's as if she's there once again. She looks around the yard in her memory, surprised by how cared for the plants are, but her marvel is soon interrupted by the irritated voice of a young woman.

She turns and her eyes fall upon an angelic face framed by a curtain of honey blonde hair. The look on the girl's face is one radiating first with annoyance and then astonishment, rather taken aback by Jane's 21st century style, unheard of in the early 1900s. Of course, that first encounter, when Jane found herself in the yard of the Isles residence, was quite mindboggling for both women.

Jane's smile grows, happy for the distraction from the time slowly ticking by in reality, as she slips back into her memories of Maura.

Despite her anxiety for what the rest of the day may hold for her and Maura, from what she knows will happen tonight, after reading that journal, she can't deny the chill of excitement that scampers down her spine at the idea of finally seeing Maura.

After two long months, she gets to be reunited with that shy, blushing young woman.

She'll finally be close enough to embrace her and breathe in that scent that is uniquely Maura, a scent of which she can't even begin to describe in any way other than: It's Maura.

She can finally run her fingers across the warm, crimson cheeks that have haunted her dreams.

She can entwine her fingers in that soft hair she's missed, as she brings her lips to caress Maura's in a gentle kiss of reunion.

With plans like those in mind, she forgets the worry of the future.

She forgets the pressure of screwing up and failing.

She forgets the journal.

She forgets it all.

The only thought that remains is of Maura.

Jane rushes up the stairs to her bedroom, her bags in hand, and throws them on top of her bed. They bounce slightly as the springs of the mattress release tiny squeals in objection to the sudden weight piled upon them.

Hesitating for a moment before moving, Jane glances around the room she hasn't seen for more than two months. It's the same as she left; nothing's changed – not that she expected it to.

Her eyes shift back to her untouched duffel bag, still packed with all her clothes and personal necessities.

Unlike most, who would take the chance to finally unpack after returning home, Jane turns away and leaves her room, leaving her bags packed and untouched.

The bags remain resting on top of her bed, looking as ready as if they're waiting to be taken somewhere else.

* * *

The sun is high in the sky and the day is still young as Maura returns to her bedroom after fixing a rather late lunch for herself. A silence has fallen over the house, spreading a sense of loneliness throughout the entire home. Despite how much she may love the alone time, the feeling of utter loneliness has even reached Maura by this point. There is only so much quiet she can take before her mind begins running off on little tangents, always leading back to the same place, or person, to be more exact.

She trudges into her bedroom, perching on the edge of the mattress before releasing a heavy sigh.

She glances around her room through wary eyes, already knowing there's nothing exciting for her to do.

It's still summer and usually there would be some sort of work for her to do around the house or reading, that is if she hadn't already finished every bit of it. She couldn't control herself the other morning after having quite a vivid dream involving Jane. She had to do something to distract her mind.

However, that other day has left her empty handed with a creative imagination.

Finding no other choice, the lonesome teen sighs and resituates on top of the bed sheets, scooting all the way up until her head can rest on the limp pillow. She relaxes her muscles, trying her best to let the stiffness drain from her body as her eyelids slowly begin to hinder her vision of the bland ceiling.

Her eyes are barely closed for what feels like two minutes when she's disrupted by three muffled thuds from downstairs.

Maura shoots up in her bed at the noise, thrown off by the sound as she breathes in and out quickly to catch her breath, her heart more surprised than it should be. She listens a little more closely, finally defining the muffled raps to be nothing more than knocks on the front door.

She smiles to herself, shaking her head amusedly as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and makes her way back down to the first floor.

The stairs release faint creaks as she descends the steps, despite the carpet covering the wooden steps beneath her feet.

As she reaches the front door, her hand around the cold knob, the knocking ceases as if on cue. Maura, however, doesn't notice the coincidence and swings the door open, a smile appearing on her face as she prepares to greet the unexpected guest.

Her face falls as she stares straight ahead, her eyes met by nothing more than the scenery of their front lawn.

Taking a step out onto the porch, she glances from side to side, looking for a spot in which the guest may have ran off to, but she finds nothing out of the ordinary. The porch is empty, the lawn is vacant, and there are no signs of any children running down the road in front of the house. Frowning, Maura turns around and closes the door behind her, wondering if she was only imagining the sounds in the first place.

But as her foot reaches the first step, planted and ready to ascend the way back up to her bedroom, another muffled knock meets her ears.

She releases a sigh and turns back to the door. Twisting the knob and pulling back the door, once again she's met by the scenery of the front yard.

She grinds her teeth together, standing in the doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest as she glances around. "If you need my attention, I am right here," she grits out through her clenched jaw, hating the silent response from the empty yard.

She hesitates for several seconds before turning around, closing the door and stopping before it can latch. The sound of a small stone, perhaps a pebble, hitting the wood causes her to reopen the door and look down at the fallen object.

She grimaces.

Sure enough, a small stone lies right in front of the door.

And next to the small stone lies a white carnation.

The stem is ripped and covered in crumbs of dirt, evidently pulled from the garden out front.

Sighing in irritation, Maura squats down and picks up the flower and the stone, holding them both in her hands as she looks back out at the empty yard in which she knows her visitor is discreetly hiding.

"Oh, this is nice," she says loud enough for the hidden visitor to hear. "First you knock and run, then you pick flowers from our garden, throw a pebble at our house, and now you refuse to show your face! Manners of people these days," she mutters as she turns around and walks back into the house, already closing the door behind her when she pauses mid-step.

"Maura, wait."

Maura freezes at the sound of rustling of leaves behind her as the voice hangs in the air around her.

She knows that voice.

She _loves_ that voice.

Her heart skips a beat, her breathing quickens, the blood drains from her face, and tears prick at her eyes, all from the sound of that single voice. She blinks several times to rid of her blurry vision before turning around, not caring as the tears seep from the corners of her eyes and tumble down her cheeks.

"Jane?" she asks dumbly, staring straight ahead at the brown locked girl who's been plaguing her thoughts for nearly two and a half months straight.

The brown locked woman nods her head once in response, a humored smile forming on her lips.

And nothing more is needed to encourage Maura to break off into a run, mindlessly jumping down the couple steps from the porch to the lawn, and slam herself against Jane so hard that it makes a thud sound as their bodies collide.

She wraps her arms around Jane's back, clinging on as if she may collapse if she were to let go. Her fingers tighten around the white carnation and the stone still held in her hand, both items no longer seen as annoyances.

Burying her head in the nook of Jane's neck, she inhales deeply, smiling as Jane's scent tickles her nostrils with its rich, overwhelming aroma. She squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the tears that continue to leak from beneath her eyelids and dampen Jane's t-shirt. She'd nearly forgotten the feeling of that odd material, so different from her own clothes.

She doesn't realize she's full out crying until a wretched sob meets her ears and Jane begins planting soothing, reassuring kisses across the top of her head.

"Shh, Maura, I'm here," Jane whispers in a gentle hum, her lips still hidden amid Maura's hair as she speaks, her arms wrapped securely around Maura's slim frame. She tightens her grip, her eyes involuntarily closing as she hears another shaky sob escape from the woman in her arms.

Maura slowly regains her composure, her body ceasing to tremble with unexpected sobs as she realizes she's not dreaming this time.

This time it's real.

This time Jane is actually here.

Maura smiles lightly, finally pulling away just enough so she can see Jane's face.

For a couple minutes neither one of them says a single word. They merely watch each other, smiling as their eyes meet once again. They take a few moments to inspect each other, as if this moment is too incomprehensible for either of them to believe as reality.

At last, Jane breaks the silence with a simple, "Hi." She grins a crooked smile.

"You're back," Maura states, apparently still surprised by Jane's sudden presence.

Jane laughs softly, bringing her left hand from Maura's lower back up to tuck several stray strands of hair behind Maura's ear before gently cupping her cheek. "Yeah," she studies Maura's face with a gleaming smile, "I'm back."

Maura smiles and leans slightly until her lips fall against Jane's for a sweet, tiny, welcome-back kiss that leaves Jane so stunned that she pulls away two seconds after their lips meet, her eyes wide.

"Maura!" she hisses in a whisper, her eyes frantically scanning the yard and every visible window of the Isles residence. "Won't someone see?"

Maura giggles lightly, following Jane's gaze over her shoulder and back at her house. Blushing, she faces Jane again, shaking her head in response. "No," she replies with an impish grin, "nobody else is home right now."

"Where are they?" Jane asks, still glancing around the yard as if Maura's mother or father may suddenly jump out from behind one of the bushes.

"They went into town for the day, all of them," Maura says with another faint giggle at Jane's apprehensiveness. "Ms. Rizzoli," Maura begins, finally winning back Jane's gaze as she adds on, "we're alone."

The words take a few seconds to register their underlying meaning of freedom in Jane's mind, but when it clicks, the worry washes off Jane's face and she tightens her arms around Maura's waist once more, smirking as she asks in humored voice, "Is that so, Ms. Isles?"

"All alone," she replies, their heads already inching closer and closer together as she nods gently.

Maura sucks in her lower lip beneath her upper teeth, allowing her eyes to scamper across Jane's face. A tiny smile flickers across her lips and face as Jane bows her head and closes the distance between them, no longer afraid of being seen.

They're out of harm's way. They're safe. They're _alone_.

That thought alone is enough to make Jane deepen the kiss, her hands subconsciously traveling upward to cup Maura's face in order to keep her from pulling away.

The kiss is soft, despite the amount of desire both women are holding back at the moment, neither one wishing to do anything too extravagant outside where anyone could pass by and see.

After a few long moments, Jane pulls away and smiles at Maura.

Maura grins in response and nudges the tip of Jane's nose with her own, a timid blush showering over her cheeks.

Jane holds back a laugh, her smile growing. Oh, she's missed that blush more than she thought possible.

Moving slowly and mindlessly as she looks into Maura's eyes, her hands find their way from Maura's neck and back down to their rightful position around her love's waist. "Guess you kept your promise," Jane states with a grin, receiving a confused look in response.

"What promise?"

"To not forget about me."

Maura giggles, overpowered by another blush as she snakes her arms around Jane's neck in a more natural position. "It is quite a simple promise to keep, Ms. Rizzoli," she replies sheepishly, looking away from the intensity in Jane's eyes. She'd almost forgotten that look of intensity, that look of absolute passion, that look of undeniable love. It can be fairly overwhelming and incredibly moving when it's directed solely at you.

"Well," Jane says and moves her head until she can look Maura in the face, smiling gently, "I guess that's a good thing… You okay, Maura?" She can't help but notice how nervous Maura is suddenly acting, blushing and unable to look directly at her.

Maura's eyes dart around nervously before locking with Jane's.

Her cheeks darken.

"Yes, I'm fine." She looks away again, looking horrendously embarrassed.

Jane's brow creases in worry. She brings one hand from Maura's waist and gently cups it beneath Maura's chin, turning her head until they're face-to-face once more. "Then what's wrong?" she asks softly, utterly confused by this sudden embarrassment that has fallen over the girl in her arms.

Maura breathes in deeply, blinking for a long moment as if to regain her composure before speaking. "Nothing's wrong, Jane, I've simply missed you," she explains in a whisper, her voice breaking on the last two words. Her blush remains as she tries to ignore the source of her embarrassment: a sensation of overexcitement that shook through her entire body.

However, the confusion and worry stay glued to Jane's face, making Maura feel even more uncomfortable.

If it weren't for that look of intensity in Jane's eyes, maybe Maura's body wouldn't be subconsciously reacting with such… _excitement_.

Instead of attempting to explain her fidgety nervousness and crimson cheeks, she leans forward and crashes her lips against Jane's in what Maura considers a fevered, needy kiss. Her heart backs up her motives, encouraging her to keep pressing forward instead of bashfully pulling away as her instinct would tell her to do. She tightens her arms around Jane's neck, which only brings their lips closer together.

It doesn't take long for Jane to catch on and figure out the cause of Maura's embarrassment.

And once they're both on the same level, neither one knows what prompts the next action. Whether Jane hoists Maura up or Maura jumps up on her own, it's unsure. Either way, Maura clings to Jane like a koala, her arms wrapped around Jane's neck and her legs secured around the girl's waist, as Jane links her arms under Maura's legs and carries her up the steps of the front porch and into the house, never breaking the seal between their lips.

She pauses once inside the house and leans back against the door, closing it with her back as she breaks her lips from Maura's for a couple seconds, long enough to catch a deep breath before she's drawn back for another demanding kiss.

Losing herself, she relaxes and lets Maura's legs ease to the ground, remaining where they are for a bit longer than she intended.

She wraps her arms around Maura's waist and snakes her hands down lower.

She smirks into their kiss and drags her lips from Maura's, placing a trail of lazy, gentle kisses along the blushing woman's jaw line. She pauses at the corner of Maura's jaw, where it's most prominent when her head is thrown to the side, as it is now, and softly sucks on the point before slowly moving on down her neck.

Maura releases a tiny, muffled moan as Jane latches onto a spot right above her collar bone, exhaling a shaky breath that escapes as more of a giggle from the tickling sensation of Jane's tongue against her chilly skin.

"Jane."

Jane doesn't acknowledge hearing her.

Maura chuckles lowly. "Jane?" she tries again, a bit more inquisitive.

"What?" Jane mumbles against her neck, refusing to pull away.

"Jane," she says with an impish grin, which Jane doesn't see, and leans forward until her lips brush lightly against the ridge of Jane's ear.

Jane shudders slightly, mumbling against Maura's neck once more, "What?"

"Take me," Maura whispers in a cracking voice.

They pause for a moment, both of them still as Maura's words hang in the air with their demand loud and clear.

Jane bites down softly at the spot where her lips linger on Maura's neck, her response a simple agreement. She smiles against the smooth skin and kisses her way back up to Maura's lips, holding on where she belongs.

Breaking away for a second, she stoops down and knocks Maura's knees out from under her, catching her in her arms and cradling her against her chest like a child, one arm behind Mura's knees and the other behind her back.

Maura releases a tiny squeak in surprise, but relaxes as Jane restores the connection between their lips once again and tightens her grip to ensure that the girl in her arms is safe as she begins ascending the stairs. She climbs so slowly and carefully that Maura barely notices they've moved until she hears the familiar squeaking sound of the hinges on her bedroom door and the thud that echoes through the room as it hits the wall, swinging all the way open.

Her heart speeds up, those two words she had whispered moments before replaying relentlessly in her mind.

She hadn't planned on saying that. She hadn't even _thought_ of doing this today.

But once she was in Jane's arms, all her thoughts and emotions became a fumbled mess.

Her thoughts remain lost as Jane gently lays her on the bed and crawls in next to her; forcing their kiss to break for several much needed breaths. Jane catches Maura's eyes with her own and smiles softly upon seeing no sign of fright running through them.

The only thing she sees in those deep, hazel irises is pure excitement.

Maura grins sheepishly, blushing as Jane carefully climbs over her. Supporting herself above Maura, her legs straddling Maura's lower body, she slowly lowers her head and plants a kiss of the lightest, softest nature to Maura's parted lips.

"I love you," Jane whispers after pulling away only far enough for her words to be heard. Her eyes are open, as are Maura's. She stares directly into them, adding on, "I haven't gotten to say that for two months…"

The blush darkens across Maura's cheeks, and she looks away shyly. "I've missed hearing that."

"I've missed saying it," Jane admits with a toothy grin and playfully bumps the tip of Maura's nose with her own. Trailing across Maura's forehead with light kisses, she corrects in a mumble against the nearly flawless skin, "I've missed _you_."

A smile tugs at the corners of Maura's lips until she gives in and lets it spread across her face as she focuses on the hem of Jane's t-shirt, mindlessly wrapping it around her fingers for a sort of distraction. "I… I think I may have missed you more," she whispers, trying to hide her smirk as she says the words.

Jane snorts in response. "Really?" she asks skeptically, gaining Maura's vision.

"Mhm."

Maura looks away at the same moment that Jane leans down and invades her lips, crashing against them in a harsh kiss. The air escapes from Maura's lungs, her breath helplessly stolen by her invader, and her heart thumps loudly in response, echoing clear in her ears with a hollow beat as it dares to accelerate. She stills as Jane's body rests on top of hers, sending another surge of excitement throughout her system.

She pulls her head up off the mattress and into the kiss just as Jane breaks the seal to finish her response, "Impossible."

Maura raises her eyelids, both of her eyebrows lifted in confusion.

Jane merely smiles. "Impossible," she says and leans back down to pick up where she left off, "there's no way you missed me more."

Maura giggles as their lips meet once again, wrapping her arms around Jane's neck to keep her from breaking away.

Though, she doesn't succeed in keeping Jane there for very long.

Jane makes her way from Maura's lips, across her jaw, down her chin, and along her neck until she reaches her collarbone where she stalls with her soft kisses, shifting slightly on top of her.

Her hands move upward and grab hold of the collar of Maura's dress, her lips never leaving Maura's skin as her fingers move down the silky-smooth material and fumble with the top button. The button slides through the hole, the next ones following suit until Maura's dress lays open, her torso bare and covered in goosebumps before Jane drags her warm lips across the exposed skin, scattering lazy kisses along the previously hidden area.

Maura's lips hang ajar, her eyes closed in pure bliss as she feels Jane shove the material even farther off her body, her torso now entirely bare. The air escapes from her in the form of a soft moan, feeling Jane's lips gingerly bite down on a part of Maura's chest that they've never touched before.

Maura shudders, her lips pulling into a faint grin, her eyes still closed.

She releases Jane's hair that she had been holding onto with both hands and grabs clumps of Jane's t-shirt in between her fingers, yanking softly until Jane complies and pulls away.

Her t-shirt is discarded and thrown on the floor next to the bed, Maura's dress quickly following, landing somewhere near the door that remains open only a couple inches.

They rejoin after the momentary disconnection, their lips colliding in a heated kiss, both of them far beyond lost.

Maura's hands find their way up Jane's bare back, her nails gliding with sharp, tickling edges across the exposed skin until they reach the bottom of Jane's bra and unhooks it. Jane's hands travel the other way, scampering along Maura's torso with calloused fingers and finally resting at her hips where they sneak in under the waistband of Maura's panties.

Maura gasps into their kiss.

The kiss shared between their parted lips deepens while Jane's hands are preoccupied with pulling the panties down Maura's legs slowly, blindly fumbling.

Time races with no limit through Maura's mind, passing by with no ticks or tocks, but with the unsteady, hollow thumps of her sporadic heart. She loses track as she feels itchy fabric brush down her legs, the fabric immediately replaced by the thick, humid air of the bedroom. She shivers, despite the warmth.

Her stomach churns with excitement when seconds later she feels Jane's legs brush against hers, no fabric or denim in between.

And as Jane begins moving around, removing final remnants of clothing and shifting around for a better position, Maura tries her best to shove away the embarrassment that builds up in her mind.

_It's only Jane_, she reassures her thoughts, attempting to rid of the worry about doing something wrong. After all, the couple has only done this once before. It's still a fairly new side of their relationship, a side that both of them are more than willing to explore, no matter how much it may make Maura blush.

She gasps, surprised as she feels a digit curl inside her, her eyes springing open and widening in response to the invasion. She shifts her attention on the feeling of Jane's lips scamper across her belly in a gentle kiss as another digit soon follows.

Her toes curl into the bed sheets, resisting a shiver as Jane blows a stream of cool air across her abdomen. A dying chuckle vibrates in her throat, and she runs her hands from Jane's shoulder back into the mass of thick brown locks, twining them between her fingers as she squirms to rid of any discomfort.

"Are you ready?" Jane asks in a gentle tone, retracting her hand and crawling upward until her face looms over Maura's. She waits patiently until Maura's eyelids flutter and reveal her glowing hazel irises. Her lips pull back into a grin as she peers at the face below.

Maura forces on a faint smile and nods stiffly, her cheeks already darkening on the edges.

Jane's grin transforms into a smirk as she shifts all her weight onto one arm, her freehand cupping Maura's cheek while her fingertips slide over the warming skin, touching it in the same manner as trying to remove a smudge. "You sure?"

Maura sucks in her lower lip in hesitation, but nods yet again, tugging lightly at the brown locks trapped between her fingers. "Positive," she whispers after a second of contemplation.

"I just don't want to go too fast," Jane mumbles as she leans down and plants a soft kiss to Maura's lips, her voice naturally lowering as she finishes speaking.

Maura presses down as Jane tries to pull away, successfully keeping their lips only mere millimeters apart. "You're not."

"You sure?" Jane questions in a whisper, one eyebrow arching.

"Yes, Ms. Rizzoli, I'm sure" Maura responds.

"You know your comfort matters to me."

Jane rests her lips against Maura's to prove how honest she's being.

"Please?" Maura asks, their lips still touching gently.

A sigh mixes with their kiss as Jane gives in and presses her lips entirely against Maura's, unable to resist any longer.

Maura's mouth hangs agape after Jane's lips abandon hers, leaving her mind lost in the tinge of arousal that shoots through her body and mingles with all of her nerves. Her hands fall from the mass of locks to her sides as Jane moves away. Her arms reach out in protest, blindly searching for Jane's body at the same moment that Maura's jaw clenches, her teeth gritting together as a groan of pleasure rips through her parted lips.

That pleasure.

The groan slowly dies in her throat as the wet invader of Jane's tongue begins to move, picking up a lazy rhythm.

Maura's jaw unclenches and falls open, her body losing the ability to hold it shut as her hands find Jane's unruly curls and wraps her fingers through them. She grabs hold tightly.

Maura tilts her head up as a moan escapes her lips. Her eyes closed as she surrenders to delight.

The nervousness and excitement churning in her stomach…

The ghostly chills that run up and down her spine…

The way her toes instinctively curl into the bed sheets, trapping the thin fabric in between them…

The feeling of the mattress disappearing beneath her back arches off of it and strong hands grab her hips back down.

The ache flitting, spreading through her body…

The _good_ ache…

The ache of ecstasy as time passes too quickly for her to comprehend, her body responding to Jane in ways she could only ever imagine.

Her mouth closes and opens, a soft moan falling from her drying lips as one of the strong hands slides from her hip and up to the middle of her back, as Jane pushes herself upward toward Maura's lips. Then jaw. Then neck.

Her mind sprints through a thousand different thoughts, countless images passing by in little glimpses of the past few months. A shed in the rain, being held against another body, pressed against a rickety wall in a mindless, fevered, _surprising_ first kiss; an alcove in the wooded area behind her house; little kisses stolen in the shadows…

She grins as Jane finally finds her way back to where she's needed, bringing her lips crashing against Maura's in a sacred kiss that catches her off guard.

Their lips meet and the outside world is gone.

There are no more worries regarding Byron or Mother or what Jane knows will happen in only several hours.

The journal is forgotten as they breathe for each other, losing their grips on reality while the temperature rises around them.

The problem of who belongs in which century is not an issue. It's not even a thought.

There is no past or future; only the present that is shared between the two of them and no one else.

Time is forgotten entirely as Jane grinds her hips into Maura's and nips at Maura's jaw with her teeth.

There are no more thoughts of unwanted marriage or uncertain deaths or disappearances or what's to come of their relationship, split between two completely different times, two worlds, that are separated by one hundred years of change and connected through a force so above and beyond understanding that no scientist could begin to explain the phenomenon that links these two worlds together.

As they hold onto each other in the best way that they are able, there are no differences between them.

There is no sign taped to Maura saying she's from the early 1900s or any tag hanging from Jane that claims her as a 21st century teen.

There is no one hundred-year difference between their births as their lips drift apart and soft moans fill their ears.

With the bed sheets becoming trapped between their sweaty legs and curling toes, their eyes squeezed shut, they're only a normal couple.

Jane continues grinding their centers together as they reach their climaxes. They fall against one another and hold on until they can regain their composure; they're like any other pair of lovers basking in the afterglow.

The sound of their short, shallow breaths echo through the room while they remain tangled up in each other. Maura is collapsed against Jane's chest, their arms wrapped around the other's back as they wait until they can think straight again before trying to move.

The sheets stick to their warm skin, covered in a layer of sweat. Their skin slides together, sticking only momentarily as they slowly and lazily disentangle their bodies.

Maura smiles sweetly, her skin glowing as the sunlight reflects off the beads of sweat on her flushed skin. "Better than the first time, Ms. Rizzoli," she breathes, linking her arms around Jane's neck.

She pulls Jane down from her balanced position above her until their chests are touching again and she feels Jane let all her weight rest upon her. She tilts her lips against Jane's in a sound kiss.

As the kiss ends, the seal broken between their lips, they find themselves lying side by side on the mattress. They're facing one another, Jane's back toward the wall against the bed and Maura's back to the rest of the room. They smile at one another.

Maura grins cutely, her eyes scrunching up. "I love you," she states in a gentle tone, running the side of her hand down Jane's jaw line.

"I love _you_." A kiss is planted against the tip of her nose.

Maura rolls over onto her other side, so she is facing the rest of the room, her back toward Jane. A strong arm possessively wraps over her torso and pulls her back against a firm body.

"Forever," Jane adds onto her own statement as she touches her lips to the little dip in between Maura's shoulder blades, "and always."

Jane pulls the bed sheets over them as Maura smiles to herself and cuddles into the embrace, allowing her eyelids to fall shut in the peaceful serenity of Jane's arms.

* * *

Hours later the sun is lower in the sky, the day slipping away with each minute as dusk falls upon the world outside the Isles residence. The front door opens below and voices are heard on the first floor, interrupting the before silent home with their laughter and glee.

"Maura Dorthea?" a curious voice calls out after some time as footsteps echo through the house. "Maura Dorthea, we're home!"

There's no response besides silence.

"I'll check on her, Mrs. Isles," a young, male voice replies.

Footsteps begin ascending the staircase to the second floor of the house, slightly muffled by the carpet.

"Maura!" the man nearly sings as he reaches the second story and walks down the hall, trying to conceal his smile when he comes to a bedroom door that is open no more than an inch. "Maura?" he whispers sweetly, knocking respectfully.

Silence.

The man grins and taps the door open with a finger. "Maura, I told your mother that I would come and—"

He stops short, his jaw hanging open in shock.

His eyes widen before he releases a gasp. An "Oh, my!" travels throughout the entire house and he backs out of the bedroom, turning away from the sight that causes his stomach to burn and tears to prick at his eyes.

He swallows thickly and searches for something to hold onto, finally resting his hand flat against the wall outside the bedroom, leaning for support.

"Byron?" Mrs. Isles questions in a troubled voice as she enters the hallway. "Byron, what…"

She can't finish her question as the man turns and stares at her with wide, horrified eyes.

Byron shakes his head and motions in the direction of Maura's bedroom, unable to speak.

* * *

Maura's eyes flutter open as a terrified gasp meets her ears and stirs her from her slumber.

She furrows her brow in bewilderment and she finds an arm still protectively wrapped around her waist and her bed sheet still pulled up to her shoulders, but every memory of that afternoon soon flies back to her in a few short seconds.

Seconds later, she feels Jane moving behind her, and the noise that awoke her is forgotten.

She smiles as Jane curls closer around her and gently kisses her shoulder, still half asleep.

As Maura opens her mouth to speak, prepared to turn and wake her lover from her haze, she's cut off by an appalled, disgusted voice that's all too familiar as it rings in her ears.

"_Maura Dorthea!_"

* * *

**I hope you all are still enjoying the story. I know I am. Please leave a comment or review to tell me what you all are thinking. I love to have some feedback. And, shout out to lynettecullen, afret2010, MB1810, and Tearyfangirl for leaving a review for the last chapter. Thank you for your continual support. Oh, and sorry about the cliffhanger ;)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry about the long wait. I've been fairly busy recently. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 25: Mother's Nightmare **

Maura cringes in immediate response to her mother's appalled tone. Every muscle in her body contracts in fright, her limbs turning rigid as she pauses all movements. The idea of rolling over to fully wake Jane is a lost, foolish thought as she hears the girl already stirring behind her. A chilly sensation starts at the back of her neck and spreads to her cheeks, initially a searing, guilty cold that then quickly changes to an embarrassed, burning hot.

The bedroom door swings fully open and bangs against the wall, bouncing off with a rattling, shaking sound that echoes through the silence that follows her mother's horrified shout.

"Oh my… dear lord," she whispers, still too shocked to act.

She merely stands, dumbfounded and confused, in the doorway of Maura's bedroom, her wide eyes scanning the room.

However, there are no reassurances as she scopes the room. There is nothing to defy the horrid thoughts floating freely in her head.

The light blue dress, of which she immediately identifies to be her daughter's clothing, is strewn carelessly across the bedroom floor, carelessly thrown beside an outfit that she assumes to be Jane's.

Two pairs of shoes have been kicked off and left to litter the floor as well, lying so far apart that it's obvious they were removed in a rush.

Her stomach churns unhappily, her mouth turning desert dry as she fails to swallow. Her hand subconsciously grips the doorframe for support as her eyes shift from the covered floor to her daughter's bed.

Now she swallows, the common movement equal to rubbing silk against sandpaper.

Her breathing starts up again, a deep gasp rattling through her mouth. She hadn't realized she wasn't breathing.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes from lack of moisture; she'd forgotten to blink.

She takes a moment to blink, keeping her eyes closed for much longer than necessary, praying with all her might that when she opens her eyes the sight on the other side will miraculously change. It's a childish wish, she knows, but just this single time she wishes it would work. Oh how much she wishes she could open her eyes and find her precious, young little Maura playing on her bed as a little girl, giggling and smiling.

For the first time she's wishing time would halt and rewind, preferably erasing itself along the way.

She wishes she could have a second chance, that she could open her eyes and step out into an event that took place several years before. Perhaps when Maura was ten, so young and innocent.

Yes, ten, that was a good age.

That was a carefree age, she remembers. There were no worries about making Maura grow up like a proper young woman; she was young and juvenile, enjoying her youth, as she should.

There was no talk of love when Maura was ten, nothing besides family love, that is.

The thought of Maura being a mature bachelorette looking for a handsome husband was quite humorous at the time; it seemed light-years away.

_But it all came too fast_, her mother thinks as she leans against the doorframe, allowing her entire body to fall limp against the wall. _I pushed her too hard, too quickly_, she concludes, mentally kicking herself for this incident.

Inhaling sharply, she straightens up and really looks at the bed against the opposite wall. Her stomach roils and her initial reaction is to look away, but instead she forces herself to continue watching.

Maura's eyes are closed, tight.

Her features are scrunched into a grimace, as if preparing herself for a blow that's yet to come.

The bed sheets are pulled up over her shoulders, covering majority of her body besides her bare leg that's poking out farther down, her foot dangling off the side of the bed.

The quilt that is usually spread neatly across the top of the mattress is now in a ball at the foot of the bed.

Her eyes scamper back across her daughter's rigid form, soaking in every outline up until the point where she catches partial sight of Jane's nude body behind her. She closes her eyes once again, her grip tightening around the doorframe to keep her steady. A wave of dizziness washes through her and causes the room to sway.

She waits before reopening her eyes, knowing that her quick assessment won't be proven wrong with a mere blink of the eye.

She can't trick her mind.

Her daughter and another girl, embracing, naked, in the same bed – it's quite obvious what took place.

Sight is not even a necessary sense for her to tell what took place in this bedroom. The scent lingering in the humid air is enough of a giveaway. That bitter, pungent aroma that she remembers only all too well. It's a tad different than she remembers, bogged down with an odd, rich fragrance, but it still has the ability to awaken her senses as it hits her dead in the face, bringing back memories from long ago. But instead of bringing along a batch of excitement, the salty scent brings the stinging sensation of tears rushing to her closed eyes.

Her muffled gasp echoes throughout the silent room as her eyelids pop open, her vision unwillingly falling upon Maura's bed and the two women lying in it.

Her daughter.

Her baby.

And that horrid girl she hadn't fancied from the start.

The unbelievable is right in front of her eyes. The two of them are… together, clutching one another in the same manner as lovers, trying to hide their innocence behind the sheets of Maura's bed – the same bed that she remembers tucking her daughter in every night when she was younger. It's the same bed, the same sheets, and the same old quilt. Her heart tightens as she recalls pulling those very sheets up to her daughter's dimpled chin to shelter her from the darkness.

Bile rises in her throat.

Standing there in the doorway, her body freezes beneath her, her legs becoming paralyzed, her muscles turning numb. She doesn't know what to do or where to turn. Her eyes are watering. And stinging... they're stinging so bad, it hurts. Her throat clenches, the muscles working on their own and contracting into the familiar form to release a wretched scream, but no sound ever comes forth to leave her parted lips. It dies in the rear of her throat as a mere rattling breath, alongside the disgust building in her body.

She wants to cry.  
She wants to scream.  
She wants to kick herself for pushing Maura too hard.

Most of all she wants to flee and pretend none of this ever happened.

"Constance! Constance? Honey, I heard you shout, what is it—"

Her body unfreezes as her husband brushes past, initially storming into the room to make sure his wife is alright.

Any worries of his wife, however, are quickly replaced as Mr. Isles enters the bedroom and becomes the third witness of the forbidden ritual that had taken place between his daughter and that girl.

_That girl... _

Mr. Isles can feel his upper lip curling into a snarl, the bitter turmoil boiling in his blood.

The disgust, the disappointment, the shame...

Without a second thought he stalks to the bed, his footsteps so heavy the floor shakes and the dresser at the far side of the room rattles, shivering in its place much similar to the way Maura is shaking in terror beneath the sheets. Her face contorts even further, though she dares to peek open her eyes a slit to catch a glimpse of her red-faced father.

That vein, that one that always pulses visibly on his forehead when he's angry, is as visible as a fly on a white wall.

"Maura Dorthea Isles!" her father growls, the words barely recognizable as they reverberate against every surface in the room and come back vibrating in a sinister tone.

As Mr. Isles approaches the messy bed, his feet just missing the piles of clothes littering the floor, his hands spread, tensed and wide, trembling with anger, Maura and Jane are already on the move. Their eyes frantically scope the room, looking for a plausible escape route, but finding none when Maura's father is at the edge of the bed, stalling and unsure of how to react. It's apparent he wants most to smack the living daylights out of both of them, though he seems to be struggling to do so, as if silently debating whether or not he wishes to lay _any_ hand on his daughter. His teeth are gritted together, his jaw tight and unforgiving as he squints down at the two shaking girls on the bed.

They look horrified. Petrified. Scared shitless.

In a matter of seconds their positions have altered entirely. They're now fully awake from any haze that had previously been lingering upon them.

With the thin, sticky bed sheets covering from their necks downward, pulled tight against their bodies as a protection as if it would protect them from whatever shall happen; the two are trying their best to blend in with the wall on the one side of the bed, curling into one another in a failed attempt to become one. Jane has her arms wrapped protectively around a cringing, shaking Maura, hugging her to her chest to shield her from any possible outbursts of violence on the near horizon.

"Maura Dorthea, so help me God, if you-"

"Father, please," Maura interrupts in a trembling, vulnerable voice.  
Jane can already feel the tears racing down Maura's cheeks and falling onto the bed.

"Please, _what_?" her father spits back in a bitter, grumbling growl.

Maura clutches Jane tighter, closing her eyes to hide from her father's disgusted glare.

She can't take that look.  
She hates that look.

She's been victim of that look countless times in the past, but never before has it been so intense, so vivid with anger and utter disappointment.

The subconscious guilt taps at her heart.

Sniffling and burying her face into Jane's warm chest she replies in a soft, shaking, voice that sounds as if it belongs to a crying child, "Please, don't hurt us."

Mr. Isles' face hardens in response to the childish request.  
This isn't child's play. This isn't a little white lie.

"Daddy, please, don't," Maura continues mumbling, her voice a cracking whisper.

Her father hesitates again and listens to her daughter's pitiful pleas, silently watching as Jane pulls Maura closer and places a kiss to Maura's frizzy honey blonde hair in attempt to calm her. His insides squiggle and churn at the action, his narrow, judgmental mind causing him to stare with disgust and disappointment at the forbidden relationship the two seem to share. His hands shake and clench to fists, but he forces them open, palm flat and keeps his arms straight at his sides.

As Maura continues whimpering and calling him daddy, his face gradually softens.

He glances at his daughter's blotchy face, memories of similar pleas rushing forth in his mind as he remembers punishing Maura as a young girl when she misbehaved. Sometimes she managed to cry her way out of a spanking, other times she wasn't so lucky.

But this isn't a mere spanking she's begging to not happen.  
And this is far from falling under the same category as "misbehavior."

However, Mr. Isles' features continue to soften with every second he allows to pass before taking action. And at last he balls his hands into tight fists and turns from the bed, turning his back on both of the women in order to address them in a calmer voice. "Both of you, make yourselves decent and then bring your sorry little as—" he stops, unable to bring himself to complete the word; it sticks in the back of his throat, caught. He clears his throat in a formal business manner and continues, "Come down to my office. We need to... talk."

Jane watches as the older man leaves, his form rigid as he leads his wife from the room.

Her heart skips a beat as she sees James' young eyes peering around the frame before the door is slammed closed.

_He saw_, she thinks to herself, her mind rushing back to the journal.

The journal.

Shit.

She read that thing four times through, cover to cover, word for word. Never did James mention anything as harsh as this incident. Not in great detail at least.

"Jane, I'm so sorry, so sorry," Maura eases into Jane's thoughts, her trembling, apologetic voice breaking through. "I… we shouldn't… I should've known better."

_Known better? Known better than to do what? Be with me?_ Jane questions silently, her jaw clenching at the thoughts. She stiffens and slightly pushes Maura's shoulders away to pull them apart, looking her in the eyes. "W-what do you mean?" she asks unwillingly.

"Than to let us do this _here_! And then to fall asleep afterward? And now _they_ know! My god, Ms. Rizzoli, we're dead!"

The brown locked girl closes her eyes in relief and bows her head, a gentle chuckle escaping her parted lips. She rests her forehead against Maura's for a moment before scooting forward and embracing the angelic woman in her arms. "Maura," she begins in a comforted whisper, "we're far from dead."

Maura shakes her head in disagreement, though she stays buried in the safe nook below Jane's chin. "I wish you were right this time, Ms. Rizzoli, I truly wish you were."

Jane smiles softly and pulls Maura closer, dragging her onto her lap and kicking the sheets out of their way. "Ms. Isles," she pauses to place a kiss in the depth of Maura's mused hair. "You better believe me this time around because I _know_ we're going to be fine."

Maura begins shaking like a leaf in Jane's warm embrace, her shoulders trembling as a sob tears itself from her lips. Her fingers involuntarily dig into the soft skin of Jane's shoulders as several more sobs follow, their sound mangled by tears and sniffles. The words that left Jane's mouth sound so sincere that Maura has trouble believing them to be a lie; of course, they must be false. How could they possibly be "fine" after this?

She was caught in bed with another _girl_.  
It's a relationship unheard-of in her town.  
Sexual relations with someone of the same gender…

She squeezes her eyes shut and holds Jane a little tighter, her least favorite subject coming to mind.

It's that inner battle she's been fighting ever since she realized that boys don't seem to trigger the same emotions in her as they do in other girls, since it dawned on her that she's not exactly _normal_ in terms of society, since she realized that maybe she's a little _different_.

That subconscious battle that she's been fighting, trying to determine exactly where she stands in the world of love.

Boys certainly never made that little spark of excitement ignite inside of her, least not the way Jane has.

And now she's fallen in love with a girl.

She tried to tell warn herself back in the beginning, when they first met and she couldn't control her heart from racing every time Jane was near. She knew such a relationship was considered wrong in the eyes of most. She knew it was frowned upon, known as a sin by some and forbidden by others. She knew yet she helplessly fell, idiotically imagining that they could keep their love a secret from the outside world. It could be their little secret forever.

It's not much of a secret anymore, though.

What's to come of them now? She's never witnessed the serious punishment of sinners in the present day. That whole hanging at the gallows is finished by now, isn't it?

She cringes inwardly at the revolting thought.

Jane notices the movement and responsively tightens her embrace, drawing Maura even closer as she plants a batch of soothing kisses along her hairline mumbling how everything will be alright; she promises.

"How can you sound so certain?" Maura asks in a cracking whisper, rubbing a dry forearm across her puffy eyes.

Deciding now is definitely not the time to mention James' notebook from the future, Jane shrugs and tilts Maura's chin upward so their eyes meet. She smiles gently and catches a tear before it has a chance to tumble down Maura's glistening cheek. "I… you just have to trust me with this one, ok? Just like sometimes you have to take a chance with love and take a… take a running leap into the abyss with nothing more than your faith that it'll all be okay in the end, you got that?" she finishes in a gentle voice, her eyes lost in Maura's. The face opposite her, however, only shows a taste of confusion at her words. She smiles and locks her lips to Maura's in a chaste kiss. "Just keep that in mind, for later, alright?" she asks after pulling slightly away.

Maura's forehead is still creased, her brow contracted in slight confusion, but she nods stiffly in response, Jane's words still echoing in her mind.

A sharp rap on the bedroom door interrupts them.

"Crap," Jane mutters and pushes Maura forward, inching toward the edge of the bed.

"Maura Dorthea?" It's her father. The anger hasn't subsided at all, as obvious in his cold tone.

Maura grunts as she sniffles and swipes her arm across her puffy eyes once again. "We'll be down in a moment, Father!" she yells back through the door, already shimmying into her dress as Jane fidgets with her discarded clothes.

* * *

"Why?" Maura's mother asks, her back toward her daughter as she stands near the window in Mr. Isles' office, her eyes absently scanning the backyard. The sun is shining on the luscious plants, giving the world a false sense of joy. She only wishes the sun with its bright rays were able to cover the dark, sinful relationship that's been growing beneath the roof of her own house. But, of course, such a thing is not of great possibility. Mrs. Isles knows this as she lets her eyes stare at the pale blue sky with a longing desire. It seems wrong that the outside world can be so bright and alive while her household is cracking and falling apart around her. It's like a storm brewing, as she relates it. She sensed it brewing before she even knew for sure, and now it's a heavy down pour that doesn't seem very willing to let up any time soon.

She breathes in deeply and lowers her eyes from the sky to turn her focus indoors for a split moment, glancing over her shoulder at her troubled daughter.

She's leaning against the arm of one of the chairs, her head bowed, her eyes searching the floor with an absent, dull appearance. Her right arm is holding her left, her hand rubbing her upper arm in a sort of uncomfortable stance. Her face is still blotchy, the skin raw and puffy around her eyes.

It's only the two of them in Mr. Isles' office at the moment.

Mrs. Isles had dismissed her husband after the first three attempts of talking failed. The room was too tense. Jane had already been sent out of the room long before.

But now, however, with only the mother and daughter present, there's not as much tension in the air around them.

They're able to breathe.

The mother suppresses a sigh as her daughter merely shrugs in response, the action clearly not a satisfying answer.

"Maura, honey," she speaks up and turns her body completely from the window to face the room. Her tone has lost its edge and uneasiness as she attempts to extract a real answer from her silent daughter, even conforming to use the shortened name she's been begging her to use for years now.

Maura's eyes snap from the lavish rug to meet her mother's gaze halfway. One of her blonde eyebrows is slightly raised in curious confusion; it's a rare happening to hear that shortened name escape from her mother.

Their eyes connected, the two of them share a wordless conversation. Sorrow and confusion fill the older, worn eyes; slight shame, disgrace, humiliation, apprehension engulfing the others.

The wordless conversation ends as Mrs. Isles breaks the eye contact, her vision obstructed by fallen lids for several long seconds, her head shaking from side to side, her mind still unable to comprehend as she remains in denial. "Why?" is the only word she manages to shove forth across her dry lips, her eyes remaining closed.

"_Why?_" Maura repeats incredulously, a cynical snort rising in her throat. She restrains it. "Why, what, Mother?"

Her mother's eyes shoot open and she yells across the short distance between them in a strained whisper, "Why would you ever commit such an act, Maura Dorthea?"

The friendly, light nickname she had unwillingly used minutes before is gone, her tone turning critical and cold once more.

Maura's jaw noticeably stiffens, her eyes falling to the floor.  
She remains silent, despite how much she wishes to argue in response.

"Why, Maura Dorthea? All this time and you… What about Byron?" she emphasizes the young man's name, attracting her daughter's gaze for a few pitiful moments.

The young woman's eyes flare with a mix of anger and annoyance, the corner of her mouth lifting into a grimace as she spits back her spiteful response: "Byron never meant a _blasted_ thing to me, Mother, and you would know that if you ever bothered to pay a speck of attention!"

"Then why, my heavens, would you drag that poor, innocent gentleman along for so long if you never had the intention—"

"Because he was at least tolerable, Mother!" Maura replies before allowing her mother the chance to finish. She stops the awkward rubbing of her left arm and raises her right hand to her forehead, gently massaging the skin with her thumb and middle finger in the same manner as one would vainly attempt to treat a pounding migraine. She releases a heartfelt sigh, her eyes absently tracing the complex, intricate pattern on the rug beneath her bare feet; she hadn't bothered fidgeting with a pair of shoes in her rush to dress. "He knew my lack of intention from the beginning," she explains in a quiet tone, refusing to let her vision wander in her mother's direction. She already knows the look her eyes would hold; she doesn't need to see any more disappointment. "He desired being thrown into this relationship as much as I did."

"But I thought… you two… you looked so happy as of late," her mother replies, pausing as she rethinks her words and changes her course of mind a few times.

Maura is unable to smother the cynical laugh before it leaves the depth of her throat and enters the room. "Because Byron did what most men seem to have a hard time doing, Mother," she follows the laugh in an equally cynical whisper, "he fell in love."

The daughter removes her hand from her head at the sound of her mother's gasp, much resembling the pleased gasp of a mother upon hearing the news of a child's engagement.

She sends her a cold, chiseled glare, her arms crossed.

She initially looked pleased, having momentarily forgotten what brought the two of them into this discussion in the first place. As easily as she had lost hold of the chaos occurring in reality around her, she's pulled back down into the grim, living nightmare just as easily. Her usually beautiful face turns hollow and pale, her mouth once again becoming a dry desert land as she stares blankly at her daughter. "But it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" she asks, a small strand of hope lingering in her tone.

The honey blonde woman closes her eyes for a moment before replying monotonously, "Mother, he has never mattered – not to me, at least."

A tiny frown finds its way to rest upon Mrs. Isles' lips. She breathes in deeply, a stiff nod following at her daughter's words. But she can't help being a tad curious, "He never mattered even a little—"

"No, Mother, not in that way," Maura replies, shaking her head continuously until a humored, sardonic smile crawls onto her face. "None of them have ever mattered. None of them ever meant a thing to me, not once, Mother, because you have never understood. No matter how many lovely, respectable young men I shoved away, you always found one to fill the space, claiming this one would be the one and never understanding that such a life is not for me! I've never had the slightest desire to marry some _man_ and start a family, but you still don't understand that, do you?"

Her mother's face is tightened, her lips pursed.  
The nightmare has returned full on, but she can't scream like a child and wake up from the terror.

"What is so goddamn awful about it?" she asks, her voice catching in her throat.

Her face tenses, every muscle seeming to contract in a painful manner.

Maura won't let her slide with a response of silence, though. "Please, Mother, tell me what is so awful about such a relationship? You've called it folly, the sin of all sins, as if I've gone on some sort of murdering rampage when all I've done is fancied a girl over boys—"

"It's _wrong_." The mother's voice is so quiet the first time that she's forced to repeat it a second. As she does, her eyes closed, she looks to be in pain as the stern words leave her lips with the authoritative aura of a final decision.

Her daughter, however, will not let such a straight answer lay as the final ground. "Wrong, how? Who says it's wrong?"

Mrs. Isles parts her lips to speak, but she quickly seals them as she realizes she has no answer. The most she would be able to say is that it_ is _wrong, and that is that. She never learned why such a relationship is wrong, why it's so frowned upon and forbidden, she merely learned that it _is_ wrong.

"It's not wrong," Maura says after ample time has passed for her mother to respond. Her wide, slightly appalled eyes meet hers. "Mother, it isn't. How can you say it is? It's love."

Mrs. Isles closes her eyes, a pained expression washing across her features yet again. She shakes her head, swallowing thickly and holding her eyes shut to avoid letting them fall upon her daughter; she's unsure of whether she could manage to look at her right this moment. "It's a love," she forces out the cold words, "that I know never should've happened."

"No, you don't know that," Maura rebuttals without letting a second pass. "It's a love that is no different than the love shared between you and Father—"

Mrs. Isles' eyes finally open, though they make their appearance as a cold, hateful glare directed solely at her daughter. "Don't you_ ever_ compare that… that…" she stumbles over the word, unable to bring herself to say it.

"Love," Maura provides.

Her left eye twitches and she continues, "Don't you _ever_ compare that to what your father and I have. Never."

Maura feels her jaw tighten, her teeth clench. A pang of absolute hatred burns inside of her, a bitter anger boiling in her blood as her brow flattens and then angles into a grim glare. Her nostrils flare as she exhales a shaky breath, an icy chill scampering down her spine. So badly she wants to shorten the distance between her and her mother and slap her against the face. _Hard._ She wants it to sting. She wants to see her in pain, suffering. She wants to see the tears in her eyes.

That pang of hatred flares, though she knows she won't lay a hand on her precious mother.  
She couldn't do that, as much as she longs to.

She contains herself to verbal assault, knowing what words will make her crack the most.

"But I love her, Mother," she whispers, a genuine smile adorning her lips as a couple tears fall from her eyes. Whether they're from the anger or happiness to finally admit the degree of their relationship directly to her mother, she doesn't know. However, she makes no attempt to wipe away the tears.

Mrs. Isles takes a few seconds to make a quick assessment of her daughter, her critical eyes scanning her from head to toe, from the tears tumbling down her cheeks to the sincere grin prevailing across her features.

Her insides chatter.

She blinks quickly and makes her way to the door of her husband's office. Swinging the large, mahogany door back she escapes to the hallway of the first floor and quickly finds Mr. Isles who had been impatiently pacing only feet outside the closed door of his office. A wave of relief washes over her as she falls against her husband's chest, her arms curled inward and the tears she had been holding back for the past hour finally releasing and pouring down her cheeks like the heavy downpour of a summer thunderstorm.

Mr. Isles, his arms instinctively enfolding her in a security blanket, raises his gaze from his shattered wife as he hears the shuffling of cautious footsteps trailing behind, only now exiting from his office.

He meets his daughter's eyes.

His arms tense around his wife.

He clears his throat, preparing to speak, but his wife beats him to it.

"Please," she whispers between her tears, shaking in her husband's embrace, "leave it be for now. I can't take it anymore."

* * *

"Jane, what… what are you doing?" Maura asks, gulping for air as Jane abruptly pulls her from the porch and toward the backyard, taking her by surprise.

Jane doesn't respond, only continues guiding Maura into the depths of the backyard, their hands clasped in a tight grip. Maura had only finished explaining, in great detail, the conversation she shared with her mother. The two girls were sitting on the swing hanging from the ceiling of the front porch. Their voices were hushed as they talked, their eyes continuously drifting in the direction of the front door in case Mr. or Mrs. Isles decided it was time for another talk. However, the two were never greeted by either of the parents.

The brown locked girl knows what she's doing, though.

She's got it all planned out in her head.  
This is how it's supposed to happen, isn't it?  
She and Maura have some discussion with Mother and Father and then miraculously disappear. That's how she remembers reading it in the journal, perhaps not word for word, but somewhere along those lines, she thinks.

_The journal_, her hand instinctively lowers to feel the bulge in the side, cargo pant pocket, but her fingers rub against no bulge.

Her running slows to a lazy walk, her head bowing to glance down at her leg. She jams her free hand into the pocket she distinctly remembers placing the journal, but her fingers return to her side holding nothing more than fuzz and lint.

She shakes her head and decides she must've left it with her bags back home, in the future.

Not giving it a second thought besides imagining how useful such a cheat sheet would be right now, to make sure she's doing things correctly, she turns toward Maura.

Her brow is contracted, confused, as she looks past Jane's shoulder at the black water pump standing in the grass only a couple meters away with its infamous presence. However now, as she gazes at the pipe for a few noteworthy moments it begins to hold a different sort of significance. Her heart begins beating in an immediate reaction, her mind understanding Jane's abrupt actions.

_She wants me to go with her_, she senses, her breathing hitching briefly in her throat and then turning shallow.

"No, Jane—" she begins in a cracking voice, tears already springing into her eyes as Jane shakes her head and places an index finger against her parted lips, silencing her from any disagreement.

"Maur, we have to."

The head of messy honey blonde hair shakes from side to side.

"We have no other choice," Jane continues and draws her finger from Maura's lips, "there's no other way—"

"I can't just disappear, Jane!"

"We can't just stick around here." Jane shakes her head at a loss for words, her eyes falling to the ground as her hands find their way to rest alongside Maura's hips. Rising to lock their gazes, "Don't you remember how Margaret threatened to act if you ever hurt Byron? I can't let you stay here and risk be—"

"She was bluffing."

"What if she wasn't?" Jane asks, her question inflicting a silence between the two, her words hanging in the air.

A chill runs down Maura's spine at the thought. But she doesn't want to think about it, not right now. Margaret wouldn't actually hurt her, would she? No, no, of course not. "She was and I'll be fine," Maura concludes after a minute, her voice cold.

"What about when word gets around about us? With Byron knowing, I don't think it will stay a secret much longer."

"People gossip all the time, Jane, it's nothing new for me to be the basis of their talk," Maura rebuttals and steps back out of Jane's tightening grip.

Jane's arms fall limply to her sides. She can feel the tension rising in the air around them.

"But _they_ won't understand, Maura."

Maura grits her teeth, knowing it's a true statement. "That's not enough reason for me to run off and escape to the future like a coward," she nearly yells back, her voice rising yet lowering when she mentions the future.

"Maura, you can't stay here."

"And why not? Everything I've ever known is here," Maura says, her voice continuing to rise in anger.

Jane's shoulders sink just a smidge.  
"I'm not here," she replies quietly, uselessly.

"But would you ever stay?" Maura asks. Jane's brow furrows at the question. "You're asking me to run off to the future with you, but would you ever even imagine leaving behind everything you know to stay here, in the past?"

Jane's eyes lower to the ground.

"I didn't think so," Maura replies in a soft, disappointed voice as she turns away from Jane and begins walking back in the direction of the house.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know, but I know I'm not leaving my family behind to disappear into the future."

Jane chews on her lower lip as she watches Maura's back get farther and farther away. She can feel the defeat overtaking her; her shoulders sinking lower and lower with an invisible weight. Her heart sinks in her chest. She feels her grip around Maura becoming weaker with the second. "But I love you," she calls as a final attempt.

Maura pauses for a second, but doesn't turn around. "I love you too, but you don't understand what you're asking me to do. I can't do that right now. Not yet."

Silence.  
Maura continues walking away, her arms crossed against her chest.

"Don't you remember what I told you earlier? What I told you to keep in mind for later?" Jane tries one last time, her voice strained and on the brink of utter defeat. She doesn't know what else to do.

Again, Maura stops mid-step, but refuses to turn around.

Of course she remembers what Jane told her earlier, that sentence has been replaying continuously in her confusion.  
_  
Sometimes you have to take a chance with love and take a… take a running leap into the abyss with nothing more than your faith that it'll all be okay in the end…_

It didn't make a bit of sense until now.  
_  
Just keep that in mind, for later, alright?_

Maura releases a silent sigh. She closes her eyes in irritation as she realizes Jane had been planning on taking her along to the future since earlier.

But Maura isn't ready to take that running leap quite yet.

Swallowing thickly and ignoring her contradicting heart, she replies in an icy voice, "If you must leave, then I suggest you leave without me, Ms. Rizzoli."

There's the sound of leaves rustling, a faint breeze picking up in the short distance behind her.

* * *

Jane turns from the black pipe and begins kicking the trunk of an old, aging tree not too far away. Her jaw is clenched in fury, her teeth gritting together so tightly it hurts. Her muscles are contracted for no reason and she has the urge to punch something so hard it'll break into a thousand little miniscule pieces.

The smell of defeat is strong.  
The weight of defeat is unbearable.

She hates losing.  
She hates fighting with Maura.  
And she hates losing fights with Maura.

She and Maura never fight; if they do it's a rare occasion.

And this fight, she doesn't know what to make of it yet. She doesn't know if it's monumental or not. Whether Maura is truly mad at her or only mad about the idea of disappearing so soon and so cowardly, she doesn't know. She doesn't know if she should be running back there right now and apologizing on her hands and knees. All she knows is that she wants Maura safe and sound, in her arms, and away from any risk of harm, which she can only assume to be anywhere _but_ the past.

Giving the tree one good final kick that makes it shudder and its leaves tremble, she turns around and slides down against the bark, her face constricted in pain. She slides to the ground, her knees drawn to her chest, and lowers her head.

She never expected any resistance from Maura. The journal didn't even mention the possibility of Maura being difficult and too stubborn to run off to the future. The journal only mentioned a little segment about a discussion with Mother and Father and then it jumped to Maura's disappearance.

But apparently the journal was wrong.  
Is that possible?

It's been absolutely correct with everything else thus far, which leaves Jane with only one explanation.

"I did something wrong," she mumbles to herself, her head lowered on her arms as a few tears of defeat fall from her cheeks to her lap. "I must've done something wrong."

* * *

Maura is sitting on the floor of her bedroom, her back against the side of her bed, her arms hugging her knees to her chest, and tears smeared across her cheeks. The floor is hard and agonizingly uncomfortable, but she can't manage to lie on the bed and keep a grip around any hint of sanity. She already tried that, which is why she's down here in a curled position. Up there, she could only smell Jane's intoxicating scent on everything, reminding of what happened earlier and sending her mind out on a million different tangents and what-ifs. Every second she stayed on top of that mattress, her fear grew worse.

The fear of what's going to become of her and Jane, of the future, of Mother and Father, of Byron, of Margaret, of any living soul that discovers.

She wants answers, clear, distinct answers.

There's a light knock on the door, interrupting her thoughts.

She glances at the closed door and groans. "Please, Mother, I don't wish to talk anymore right now," she yells back, a new set of tears tumbling down her dry, raw cheeks.

The door opens.

"Maura?"

"Oh, James, it's you," Maura says with a sigh of relief, her muscles relaxing as she watches her younger brother smile and scurry into the room. He has something that looks like a book gripped in both of his hands, carrying it like it's a sacred document. Maura lifts a curious eyebrow, rubbing her forearm quickly across her face as she sniffles, "What do you have there?"

James glances down at the item in his hands and looks back up with a secretive smile, plopping on the ground next to Maura. "I'm not exactly sure," he admits in a frank tone, crossing his legs beneath him, Indian-style. "But I think it's actually mine."

"You think?" Maura questions, laughing at her brother's enthused face. She shifts her eyes to the item. "Where'd you find it?"

"On your floor."

Maura sends James a flat glare, but doesn't yell at him quite yet. After all, it doesn't look like any of his possessions. "Let me see," she says, her arms already outstretched. Her brother complies and hands over what appears to be a book. Maura takes it in her hands and inspects it for a few moments, turning it over as she runs her fingers across the leather cover. "It's not mine," she whispers, shaking her head as a curious hand already pulls back the front cover.

"No," James agrees and scoots across the floor to sit next to his brother, his eyes locked on the item. "I think it belongs to Jane."

Maura shakes her head again, her eyes scanning over the pages, but not comprehending any of the words she's reading. "But this isn't Jane's handwriting," she replies, recalling seeing a few things that Jane has written from time to time.

"I know. It's mine."

Laughter escapes from Maura as she looks a bit more closely at one of the pages, "James, you can't write this neatly."

"Not yet I can't."

Maura knits her brow in confusion, glancing up from the pages of what seems to be a journal in order to meet her younger brother's gaze. She doesn't need to say anything for her brother to explain.

"It's from the future," James explains in a simple, matter-of-fact voice. "I tried reading some of it, but it doesn't really make sense. It's all this rubbish about you and her in the future and me visiting you two and telling you what it's like in the past, as if you would ever have the guts to live in the future, and none of it seems to—"

Maura zones out the rest of her brother's explanation and laughter as she turns her direction back to the open journal in her hands. At last, she finally recognizes her name and Jane's popping out all over the page. She scans the pages a little more closely, flipping through them as her eyes pick up talk of the future, an apartment, cars, jobs, and Jane's family… Her heartbeat quickens and she turns back to the beginning of the journal, to the very first entry.

It's dated several months from now.  
_  
21st February 1909_

I visited Maura and Jane today. I haven't seen either one of them since that day back in August when Mother and Father caught them… together. I still don't know what happened for sure except that they were caught. They still won't tell me what they were doing with each other, at least not yet. It must have been pretty bad though, considering how loudly Father was shouting, and I even saw Mother crying. It's only been a few months, but Maura has changed. She's beginning to resemble Jane more and more, looking like she's from the future as well. She doesn't wear the same type of clothes any more. Instead they're more like those ones I saw her wearing in that strip of photos I found in Maura's desk. I think she called them "jeans," but I'm not sure. She rambled off a bunch of foreign sounding names today; I can't remember half of them. They seem happy, though. They were telling me all about what they've been doing since Maura disappeared and how they've been doing a little bit of travel and a bunch of, I don't know, settling down or something. And when I asked Maura why she disappeared that day, she said I was a big cause, in a good way. She said I gave her the reassurance that she'd actually survive in the future. The reassurance that she needed before she could go…

Maura stops reading there and looks up from the journal, staring straight ahead at the plain wall on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes are damp, but not because she's sad. No, instead they're tears of relief filling her eyes. Her heart beats a little faster in her chest, adrenaline pulsing through her body, her mind turning haywire, her thoughts skipping from one image to the next, imagining the future with Jane and her, together.

_The future…_

A smile turns her lips upright from their frown.

For the first time, the word doesn't hold the same negative connotation that it held originally. Now it holds a sense of adventure and newborn excitement, making her feel like an antsy little kid the night before a big journey.

"Maura?" James asks, his tone slightly concerned as he watches a few tears race down his sister's cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His older sister turns toward him and smiles, nodding her head. "I'm… I'm great, James, really," she tries reassuring him, wiping away her tears while keeping the journal in her grip. "And thank you for this," she continues and leans forward to wrap her arms around her younger brother in a tight, thankful hug, "thank you so much, James."

James looks confused beyond belief as he watches Maura get up from the floor and walk toward the door. "Where are you going?"

Maura sniffles and rubs away a few more tears as she turns around and faces James one last time. "To see Jane," she says with a tight smile on her face, the tears still falling from her eyes. Knowing this isn't truly the last time she'll see James, the haunting feeling of saying goodbye to her family forever is erased. "I… I don't know when I'll be home," she begins, sniffing lightly, "but, James, just remember I love you, okay?"

James' eyebrows are pulled together in confusion, his lower lip tucked in beneath his upper teeth, but he nods in understanding. "Okay," he replies, quirking a brow at his sister's peculiar behavior.

"Okay, good, I… I have to go, I'll see you around," Maura says, unable to find any words that seem to fit properly in such a significant moment, and hurries out of her bedroom, down the stairs, out the front door, and around to the backyard, leaving behind her bewildered young brother, her oblivious parents, and everything she has ever known in the past.

* * *

Maura smiles as the air picks up around her in a light breeze, her eyes closed until she feels the ground replaced beneath her feet. Her fingers tingle in anticipation around the water pump, the others tightening around the journal. Her heart thumps slowly and heavily in her chest, reverberating in her ears with its hollow beats.

"Maura?" the voice she loves questions before she even has the chance to open her eyes.

She opens them and turns toward the voice, her eyes falling on Jane resting against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes are puffy. "You came?" she asks, running a hasty forearm across her eyes as she uses the tree as an aid in standing.

"I came," Maura replies with an eager head nod, an excited smile adorning her lips.

"What… what changed your mind?" Jane asks as she takes a few cautious steps toward Maura.

Maura looks down at the journal in her hands and returns her gaze to Jane with the same curious, mischievous grin overpowering her features. "James," she explains simply, slightly waving the journal in her right hand as she moves forward to close the distance between them. She glances down at the ground, a blush scattering across her cheeks in a childish manner.

_Of course it was James_, Jane thinks and smiles, watching the blush flare on Maura's cheeks, as she places her hands around Maura's elbows. "Look, Maura," she begins gently, not knowing where to begin while rubbing her hands up and down Maura's arms, "I'm sorry, I was asking way too much of you and I didn't mean to—"

Maura cuts her off, tilting her head just so to join their lips in a chaste, silencing kiss.

Jane seals her lips as Maura pulls away, still smiling an odd, curious grin; her cheeks still a rosy shade of pink.

And with the excitement of the future hiding behind that grin, Maura finally admits in a soft, confident whisper:

"Jane, I… I'm ready to take that running leap now."

* * *

**I hope you all liked this chapter. Please leave a review or comment telling me what you thought. Thanks! Oh, and does anybody know when the rizzles fan awards are?**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26: A Broken Home & a New Home **

"I'm off to Frost's!" Jane calls into her house and quickly pulls the front door shut behind her, turning the knob and letting go before her mother has a chance to question her about where she's already been for the better portion of the day.

After all, it's her first day back home from a long summer vacation spent at her grandparents' house.  
Usually she'd spend a day like this by hanging around the house and adjusting back to the home life in a lazy manner, enjoying her own bed, her own couch, and everything else she's missed while being away.

Besides catching up with one certain person she's missed while being way, her first day home has so far been spent away from the home.

It is now well past eight-thirty in the evening and she's barely so much as dropped in to say hello to her dear mother. Apparently she doesn't have time for such miniscule matters. In and out, she came and went, sneaking around her own house before making a quick exit back outside into the early, humid dusk of the late August evening, a packed duffel bag in tow as she let the false words fall from her lips in an excuse of departure.

Her little white lie won't be caught as the door clicks shut behind her.

If anyone were to watch her descend the steps of her front porch, however, they would see that her supposed destination is a mere lie.

If one were to watch the brown locked teen trail down the front walk and make a sharp left turn, they would see that she is headed in the opposite direction of her friend's house.

If they watched her all the way to the point where she stops in her tracks, comes face to face with an anxious honey blonde of a similar, relative age, and drops her duffel bag at their feet before joining their hands, they would see that this girl has no intention of visiting Frost.

They would watch as she leans forward and brings their lips together in a gentle kiss of encouragement, making a silent promise that everything will be all right as she seals her muted words with a kiss of love.

If they watched this far they would see the fear residing in the angelic woman's eyes as she slowly opens them, and they would catch sight of the uncertainty she blinks away before Jane has a chance to notice.

"You're sure about this?" she asks in a tender voice, lightly holding Maura's face in between her warm hands. Her lips tighten in slight concern, her eyes searching Maura's for any hint of uncertainty, for any signs that would throw up a red flag to stop right now and let her return home, back to the past.

But she finds no such signs in her quick assessment.

Maura forces a smile and nods, averting her eyes for a split moment to push away the uncertainty that dares to linger. "I'm certain," she replies nonetheless. Her arms tighten around Jane's sides, her fingers grasping the familiar t-shirt in a needy manner. After a quick glance down at her hands around Jane's waist she returns her gaze to meet the other woman's. Her forced smile dissipates as she blinks away a few unwanted tears. "Anyway, I can't go back there," she adds on in a cracking, breathy voice.

"But if you want to go back," Jane says against her own wishes, "you can. You don't have to say goodbye, not yet."

A strained sob pulls itself from Maura's throat, dragging along a set of unavoidable tears as well. Jane smears the salty liquid with the pads of her thumbs.

"Maura, you don't have to leave—"

"I have to," she interrupts in a soft voice, shoving away her tears with a thick swallow. She's silent as Jane continues to catch the tears with her caring touches, and regains her composure to the best of her current ability. "I mean," she speaks up after a minute, "it's not goodbye forever… right?"

Jane smiles and smoothes Maura's hair with her left hand. "Of course it's not forever," she replies, knowing she can use the journal as a factual reassurance. "James will visit."

Maura's lower lip trembles as she tries to contain herself, trying her hardest to stay strong. She doesn't wish to cry and break down like this. She doesn't know why she's acting so foolish. It's really not that big of a deal, is it? It's not forever, she knows it isn't, but it feels so permanent. Running from her family, from the past, from the mess she left behind; it's a major leap, and she knows it.

Feeling lost in her own emotions, she pushes through Jane's hold and collapses against her body with such force that Jane can feel the air stolen from her own lungs.

She doesn't complain, though.  
She doesn't push Maura away or even attempt to loosen the grip.

Instead she wraps her arms around her and keeps her close, tilting her head to rest against Maura's.

She kicks the duffel bag from between their feet, shoving it off to the side of the walk as she holds Maura in her arms. She doesn't part her lips to speak, to ask what's wrong nor to try and offer any lame words of reassurance. She knows words are not what Maura needs right now.

All she needs is that sense of security, that sense of love.

She needs to feel that sense of belonging.

She needs to know that she belongs somewhere, anywhere.  
Whether she belongs in the past or present, she doesn't care.

She only wishes to belong somewhere, and if that place is solely in Jane's arms, then so be it.

When Jane feels Maura's grip loosen a smidge, after a few good minutes of quite significant silence have passed, she knows it's safe to move once more. She pulls back only far enough to look Maura in the eyes.

She catches sight of a flash of uncertainty, followed by a wave of determination flickering across the rich, hazel irises in front of her.

Knowing that Maura can't return home, she disregards the doubt and squeezes Maura's hand.

"Come on," she whispers with a smile, motioning to the right with a slight tilt of her head, "let's get out of here."

* * *

"Mrs. Rizzoli, we're going to ask you to please try and remain calm. She'll show up if you give it a little time. Remember that it's barely been over twenty-four hours. We can hardly even call this a missing child case," a female officer attempts reassuring Mrs. Rizzoli as she heads out of the front door to join her partner in the car. She turns back around with one foot out the door, her hand on the knob. Frowning at the mother's tearstained cheeks, she lowers her voice, "Look, just relax. I'm sure your daughter is fine, ok?"

Mrs. Rizzoli's shoulders shake as she tries to hold in a few muffled cries behind a damp, worn and torn tissue, but she tries to nod in agreement all the same.

With a sigh, the officer lets the door fall back into place and reenters the house. "Mrs. Rizzoli," she says and lightly guides the frail woman to the couch, "please, try and… relax. I know this is hard, but think about it. It's the end of summer; teens always get a bit rebellious with the thought of school beginning again. She probably just… does she have a boyfriend?"

Angela shakes her head, refolding the wrinkled tissue in her hands.  
"No, none that I know of," she replies softly.

"Then she probably just ran off with a bunch of friends and forgot to call. Give it some time, ok? She'll show up, or call. In the meantime, just… relax, ok?" She sends Angela a reassuring smile and heads toward the door once again.

Before she has two feet out of the house, Angela pauses her, asking, "And if she doesn't show up?"

The female officer glances back over her shoulder and meets Mrs. Rizzoli's bleary eyes from across the room. "If she doesn't turn up on her own," she sends another reassuring smile, "_then_ we'll find her."

Angela says no more as the front door closes and she's left alone in the silence of her house at the late hour of the night. As much as she wishes to believe every word the officer told her, as much as she wishes not to worry and automatically believe that everything will be fine in no time, she can't.

Her mind won't allow it.

And in the silence her mind gets a chance to wander, her imagination the chance to create rash ideas.

It's as she sits here choking sobs into the same damp tissue that her mind flips through the worst-case scenarios, imagining a call from the officers after finding a body lying in some ditch alongside a deserted road.

A strangled cry tears from her throat.

* * *

Maura stirs from her slumber, stretching as she awakens and blinks open her eyes, a yawn opening her sealed mouth. She goes to turn to her side as she realizes she's not in a bed.

Not only is she not in a bed, she's not in a room.

Or a house…

She jumps in her seat and grabs the armrests with both hands, gripping tightly, her eyes widening as her moving surroundings tear her from any dreamland in a matter of seconds.

"Morning, Sleepyhead."

Maura turns her head at the sound of the familiar voice, releasing a breath she'd been holding as she comes face to face with a smiling Jane. Her heart begins to slow in an immediate response of relaxation, and her hands loosen around the armrests, the tension and fright slowly draining from her body as she glances around the compartment.

It's not a very _pretty_ introduction.

It's a large, yet very compacted vehicle, as Maura can guess. There are people everywhere, most of them dozing or reading, and there's a very… poignant scent spoiling the air.

She grimaces as she takes a breath.

As Jane's hand finds hers, their fingers intertwining in a natural manner, she draws her eyes from studying the faces of the people nearby to once again join a familiar pair of deep brown eyes.

"You okay?" Jane asks, ducking her head in attempt to keep their hushed conversation private.

Maura's eyes run quickly through the cabin, as if she's not sure exactly how to answer. With a slight frown trickling across her lips, she replies softly, "Exactly where are we, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"You don't remember?"

Swallowing thickly while surveying her surroundings yet again, she shakes her head gently. "Only slightly." She makes a displeased face as she watches some man across the aisle obnoxiously blow his nose into a crinkled tissue. "What do you call this…" she stumbles on her words as she turns back toward Jane, the uneasiness still etched into the frown and crevices of her face, "This _thing_?"

Jane smiles humoredly as she scans their surroundings. "It's a bus," she says lightly, hoping she doesn't have to go into a detailed explanation. "You know, it's a public—"

"Oh, right!" Maura cuts her off, her face lighting up in pure glee at recognition of the word. "We have those," she continues. Her face falls as she looks out of the corner of her eye at the uninviting interior of the bus. "But these are quite different than the ones we have at home."

"I bet," the brown locked woman gently laughs beside her.

Maura breathes in deeply, a soft smile winning over her features as Jane's hand tightens around hers. She resituates in her seat, turning slightly to lean against Jane's side as she breaks apart their hands and gladly rests into a familiar position beneath the arm that securely wraps around her shoulders. Releasing a satisfied sigh, she lets her head fall against the inside of Jane's upper arm as her eyes follow the scenery trickling by outside the window of the bus.

They're in the countryside, Maura notices, watching the elegant, rolling hills pass by. It's quiet and seems fairly peaceful at a glance, but it resembles none of the landscape from around her home or town, and the occasional telephone pole is no help in defying that fact.

Her stomach tightens at the thought of home.

Her mind flickers off on a tangent, flashing images and questions at her befuddled mind. Questions of how Mother will react when she awakens to find her daughter still hasn't shown up from the day before, how Father will react, how James will grow as an only child in what used to be a family of four.

She imagines her Mother taking it the worst, her father having no other choice than to comfort her, and James simply being confused.

Her heart quickens in her chest for a moment, her stomach tightening a little more.

She can only wonder what will become of Byron and how quickly the scandal will spread through town.  
After all, Margaret _had_ warned that she'd retaliate if Maura were to ever hurt Byron.

But, Maura remembers as a wave of nervous nausea sweeps through her body, Jane had promised her everything would be okay.

The journal said everything would be okay in the end. James said so in the journal.  
He gave Maura the reassurance that it was okay to leave. The journal said so.

_It's all a little silly, isn't it?_ Maura wonders as she shifts in her seat, placing her head in a snug position atop Jane's warm chest. _Putting so much faith in a little journal, it's more than a little silly._

But she doesn't want to think of the possibility that the journal is incorrect, not right now, at least.

"Jane?" she asks, turning her mind away from the journal and the longing thoughts of home.

"Hm?"

"Where is it you said we're going?" She doesn't turn to look at Jane, but keeps her eyes on the scenery.

She feels Jane shift behind her, lowering into a more comfortable position in her seat. "To stay with… someone I know," Jane replies softly, her voice sounding a tad groggy, "He lives down south."

"Who is he?"

There's a moment's pause, a hesitation before Jane replies. "A relative."

"Oh?" Maura's voice rises at the mention of family. "Does that mean he's a relative of mine, too?"

Jane releases a silent laugh that Maura feels only through Jane's vibrating chest. "No," she says quietly. "He's from the other side of the family."

* * *

"I went too far this time, Richard, I really did," Mrs. Isles whispers in a trembling voice, her back turned toward her husband and the rest of the room as she stands near the window. Her eyes scan the front yard with a focused gaze, one full of hope. The hope, however, quickly dies, as she sees nothing more than the same dull, motionless front yard that she's been carefully observing all morning.

Mr. Isles gently clears his throat and stays near the entrance of the parlor. "How long have you been awake?" he asks, his own voice lagged down with fatigue.

His wife glances back at him over her shoulder, glancing for only a split second before ripping her eyes away and resetting them to their previous position of watching the yard for any sign of movement. "I don't know," she replies to her husband in a lost voice. "I haven't bothered keeping track of time."

"Mm," he hums in acknowledgement. "Have you slept?"  
He snaps one of his cufflinks into place on his suit.

Mrs. Isles turns around at the sound of the snap and looks at her husband from head to toe, finding him fully trimmed and dressed. "You're," she begins and pauses, her tone strained. She shifts on her feet and hugs her own arms, her head slightly tilted to the side, and finishes in a shaking voice, "You're going to work today?"

She watches as her husband releases a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling in a mechanic manner in his stiff suit. "There are things that need to be done, Constance, you are well aware of that," he responds without looking up from his cuffs.

"How can you go to work on a day like this?"

"A day like what?" He snaps the other cufflink into place.

"A day like…" Mrs. Isles trails off, tears tickling at her eyes. "Richard, our daughter is _missing_, and you can simply leave?"

There is no response other than a slightly aggravated, breathy sigh. Mrs. Isles waits until her eyes meet her husband's before she dares say another word. His eyes, she notices, are nothing like her own. They are hard, beady little eyes hidden by a pair of scuffed spectacles. They're a grim blue-grey, much like the color of slate. She used to love looking into those eyes and seeing the shade of a peaceful, vivid sky in them, but now, as she stares across the parlor at her husband, she feels no love or glee from those eyes. There is no hint of sadness or even a trace of regret in those pale irises.

There is no remorse.

"You don't even care… do you?" Mrs. Isles asks, her voice cracking as she stares at her husband in disbelief.

He hesitates with a reply.

"You don't!" his wife nearly wails, covering her mouth with her hand as the tears begin to flow freely from her eyes, tumbling downward across the dry trails on her already tearstained cheeks. "Our _daughter_ is missing and you don't even care!"

"I care, Costance, of course I care," he replies in a stern voice that reveals anything but care.

The crying woman near the window shakes her head, disbelieving. "Then how can you bare to leave?" she asks in a near whisper.

"Because it's been three days."

There's a faint gasp as Mrs. Isles turns back toward the window, one hand lightly covering her parted lips. "Three days?" Her voice rises in hushed hysteria. "Has it been that long already?" She glances out the window, her eyes falling from the ominous grey sky and down to the luscious green grass of the yard, all the while trying to focus through her tears. Her free hand grabs hold of the side of the window frame, tightly gripping the furnished wood while her other hand drops from covering her mouth to hang by her side. "It… it," she tries to speak in a hysterical, breathy voice, "it couldn't have been that long. Not… no, not yet."

She nearly jumps as a hand lands on her shoulder, the fingers tightening only enough to turn her around.

"Constance," the man begins in an attempt of a soft voice, "you need to take a day off." He peers at his wife's face, his eyes moving from her messy, unkempt hair, to the darkening circles below her eyes, to the wrinkles of worry that have long settled across her forehead.

By her appearance, she's aged by years in a few mere days.

Mr. Isles withholds a sigh and guides his wife to a chair nearby, facing away from the window. "If Maura wishes to return home, she'll come back on her own," he says while helping to lower her into the chair. "Your staring out the window will not make her magically appear, Constance, as much as we both wish it would."

His wife snaps her head up, a glare plastered across her hard brow as she meets his face with her eyes. She does not speak, however. She is well aware that her hopeful stares for a sign of movement in their front yard will not bring her daughter back at that moment. She can wish, though.

"Constance."

She meets her husband's eyes.

"She didn't leave because of you," he reassures her, his voice gentle. "You know that, don't you?"

The mother breaks their eye contact.

"Honey, you need to stop blaming yourself for this," he continues, his hand finding its way to his wife's now damp cheek, his fingers brushing across tears. "You did nothing wrong. Maybe this is for the best, Constance. Maybe it's time for Maura Dorthea to move out and start a life of her own—"

"Stop."

"Cons—"

"Richard, please." She leans away from her husband's touch, turning her face the other way. "Just… go to work."

Closing her eyes, she waits until the sound of footsteps meets her ears before daring to move. As the front door clicks shut, the weary mother rises from her chair and pushes it across the floor, turning it to face the window. She stands next to the chair for a moment, her arm resting atop the back, and watches her husband walk down the front path and turn out onto the road. A hint of anger flares inside of her as she watches him walk away so easily, so unattached, yet she also wants to cry over the same fact.

With her husband well out of view, Mrs. Isles slowly sets herself down in the chair and resituates her eyes on the tranquil front yard.

Waiting.

* * *

"Wow," Maura whispers as she enters the room in front of Jane, her eyes widening with delight as the lights are flicked on. She glances around, her jaw hanging slightly ajar as she takes in the rich, welcoming colors. "Hotels have changed profoundly over the decades," she comments in a soft, awed voice, stealing a quick peek at the bathroom.

Jane drops her duffel bag against the wall after closing the hotel door and looks around.

It's a relatively small, cheap room with a double bed, and it's definitely nothing out of the ordinary. And though it seems so simple and run-of-the-mill in Jane's eyes, it is far beyond humble in Maura's.

The brown locked teen can't help but smile as she watches Maura move about the room, her eyes sparkling with excitement at all the new sights. She looks like a child, completely amazed and thrilled by everything she sees and touches.

She pauses at the head of the bed and runs her fingers across the crisp white pillow shams, smiling as she raises her eyes from the bed to meet Jane's.

"What?" she asks. She resists a blush.

Jane smiles gently and walks over to her. "Nothing," she replies, snaking her arms around Maura's lower back.

"Then why were you staring at me so intently, Ms. Rizzoli?"

"Was I?"

Maura feels her cheeks grow a tad warmer as Jane playfully nudges at her neck with the tip of her nose. "You were," she says in a breathy giggle, her eyelids fluttering shut after feeling a pair of lips press a tender kiss to the curve of her neck. The lips linger against her skin for a moment, soon breaking contact only to hesitate a mere centimeter away. She shivers as a warm breath hits her neck in a tickling manner. "Jane?" she questions after a moment's hesitation.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about right now?"

The warm breath tickles her neck once more. "You."

She releases a faint giggle, ducking her head at Jane's response. "What about me?" she asks in a voice no louder than a whisper while her eyes trail down the length of Jane's arm, her curious fingers following her gaze.

There's a pause before Jane responds. Her arms tighten around Maura's waist and she draws her a bit closer, lightly burying her face in the familiar locks of honey blonde hair. She breathes in, smiling to herself. "About how amazing you are," she replies quietly, failing to hide her happiness. "I mean, Maura, it's 2008 and you're… you're here. I still can't believe it."

"I know, I'm having trouble believing it myself," Maura says, her voice unheard. There's an odd tightening in her stomach, reminiscent of the knot she felt on the bus earlier that day. She's never felt anything quite like it before this day. It's fright, she's well aware, but there also seems to be a tang of excitement mixed in alongside it.

"What's wrong?"

Maura raises her eyes and finds Jane staring directly at her, no longer holding her so closely.

"I don't know," she says, looking away from Jane for a split moment. "I guess I'm just tired."

A gentle touch along the side of her cheek causes Maura to meet Jane's gaze once again. "You're sure that's all?" Jane asks, running her calloused thumb across Maura's cheek. Her brow creases as she watches Maura bite her lower lip before stiffly nodding in response.

It's not a very convincing action.

Jane's not stupid, though; she knows there's more than fatigue tiring Maura.  
But she also knows Maura is in no mood to spill her thoughts at the moment.

_She's probably just homesick_, she reasons with herself and sends the honey blonde teen a gentle smile. "Why don't you take a shower to relax?" she asks, still cupping Maura's cheek in her hand.

"A shower?" Maura quirks an eyebrow. "To relax?"

With a chuckle, Jane places her hand on the small of Maura's back and guides her over to the bathroom. She nudges the door open with the toe of her shoe and flicks on the overhead light. "Come on, it'll help," she tries to explain to Maura.

The woman next to Jane eyes the bathtub with a slightly bewildered look overpowering her features. It's fairly different from the bath they have back home, though she can clearly see the similarities. "What do you mean it'll help?"

"It'll calm your nerves," Jane says, guiding Maura a little farther into the bathroom.

"But I'm not… _that_ dirty." Maura pulls at the collar of her shirt and sniffs, making a face. "Am I?"

The brown locked teen laughs and shakes her head, walking past Maura toward the shower. "No, it's not that," she says, picking up the fluffy white towel from the ledge of the tub and placing it on the back of the toilet. She grabs a little bottle and a small object wrapped in some sort of paper from the sink and moves them to the back ledge of the shower. Turning around, she smiles at Maura and closes the short distance between them. Delicately placing a lost lock of honey blonde hair behind Maura's ear, she explains, "It'll help you relax, Maura. It's been a long couple of days, I know, and I'm sure taking a nice, warm shower will help you to finally relax, ok?"

Maura releases a light sigh, her eyes passing Jane for a second to eye the shower once again. She's never heard such an odd plan before; showers were strictly for cleaning off the dirt and grime from the day—not for _relaxing_.

_But it does sound nice_, she must admit.

"Okay," she agrees with a simple nod of the head, sending Jane a little smile.

* * *

Jane jumps, cursing as she accidentally whacks her head against the headboard, after hearing a loud bang from the bathroom. It's the first sound she's heard in the past half hour besides the rhythmic spray of the steady stream of water from the shower in the other room, and it doesn't sound like a very friendly bang. Normally she would ignore it; people are always dropping the bar of soap or the shampoo bottle.

But this bang… she doesn't brush off so easily.

Without wasting a second, she switches off the television set opposite the bed and makes her way over to the bathroom. She pauses outside the closed door, staring at the wood in the darkened light as she listens.

At first all she hears is the same whistling spray of water, but then her ears perk at a sound that is a little out of place.

"Maur?" she asks through the door. She twists the knob and cracks the door open a smidge. "Maura?"

There's a sputtering sound from the other side of the room, mixed with a few strangled whines that Jane can only barely hear over the still running shower. "Maura, you okay in there?" she tries again through the small crack between the door and the wall, carefully listening.

The little whine rises in volume, causing Jane's eyes to widen as she throws open the bathroom door and rushes in, not caring as the door bounces against the wall. "Oh my god, Maura…"

The curtain is bunched up and thrown out of the way at the front of the shower. The water is still running full blast. And sitting on the outer edge of the bathtub with her back to the door, is Maura, wrapped in one of the towels Jane had pulled aside earlier. She's hunched over, hanging her head between her shuddering shoulders, her damp hair dripping down her bare back.

Cautiously, Jane walks over to the shower and reaches for the faucet, pushing in the knob to turn it off. She glances down at the drain and finds the complimentary bar of soap still in its wrapping, though terribly soaked, alongside the tiny bottle of shampoo. She ignores the fallen objects for the time being and turns her head toward Maura.

She's still looking down at her feet in the remaining little pool of water waiting to drain, not acknowledging Jane's entrance.

Without saying a word, Jane lowers herself to the ledge of the tub and sits next to Maura, but faces the other direction.

She waits for a minute or so, listening to Maura's little sniffles echo around the room.  
She waits for something to be said, but they quickly fall victim to silence.

Neither one of them speaks for a few minutes.

Several minutes later Maura finally says, "I'm gone," her voice shaky and cracking.

Jane turns her head to look at her. "Gone?"

Maura turns her head as well, meeting Jane's gaze. Her eyes are puffy, her cheeks blotchy with tears. Her lower lip trembles as she looks around Jane's face, her eyes running across her features quickly before resettling back upon her rich irises. "I'm gone, Jane," she whispers, the tears she had momentarily stopped racing down her cheeks once again. She tries to keep her face still, tries to keep a strong front, but she cracks. A cry rips from her throat, her face contorting as the pain thrusts forward with full force.

She falls against Jane within seconds, curling her arms inward against her chest as Jane holds her in a tight embrace, keeping her close.

"I'm gone," she continues to say between her cries into Jane's shirt, her voice muffled and weak. Her cries lengthen to long, drawn out moans of pain as she squeezes herself farther into Jane's arms, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the little alcove between Jane's arms, chest, and lap. She wishes she were smaller so she could fit there with no difficulty. She tries to, she shifts amidst her tears, twisting and turning to try and make it happen, but her legs are too long, her torso too lengthy, her arms much too in the way. Accepting defeat to ever shrinking, her cries multiply.

Jane carefully lowers them from the edge of the tub to the floor as Maura begins shifting continuously in her arms. Once on the floor, she pulls the crying girl completely onto her lap, tucking her in her arms like a child. "Shh," she coos into Maura's wet hair as she reaches for another towel nearby and gently wraps it around Maura's bare shoulders and back, laying it over her like a blanket. "Shh, Maur, you're fine. You're not gone, Maura. You're right here…"

The cries soften to Jane's soothing words, but they're far from stopping. Maura listens to the repetitive words through her cries, through the mess of jumbled thoughts in her head. She writhes on Jane's lap, hiding her face in Jane's now wet t-shirt. "I don't exist," she whispers.

"Maur, shh, you exist. You're right here, Maura. I'm here. You exist—"

"No, I don't," Maura interrupts, her voice a bit louder as she moves her face slightly away from Jane's chest. "I'm gone, Jane."

"Maura—"

"I've been erased."

Her words linger in the air for a long moment, their meaning sinking in and causing her tears to flow even harder as she chokes back another cry. She grabs hold of Jane's damp shirt, twisting the wet cotton between her fingers as she tries to forget what she had just said. She stares at Jane's shirt through her tear-filled eyes, crying silently as she hopelessly tries to focus on now, on the present, on the future.

But even as she tries to stay in the present, her thoughts flicker back to the past. The anger, her crying mother, the confusion, yelling, threats… she tugs on Jane's shirt a little harder as she thinks of James.

"Maura… shh, come on…"

She listens to Jane's attempts at silencing her, wishing she could stop her cries, but every time she tries to hold them back they force themselves back out. She bites her lip and ducks her head beneath Jane's chin, trying to shrink once more. "I don't… I don't want to be erased, Jane," she manages to get out in a little squeak against Jane's chest.

Jane's chest tightens at Maura's words, said in such a helpless voice.

They make _her_ feel helpless. She wants to open her mouth and say something healing, something that will make Maura's tears stop, something that will end the pain and set everything right again.

With every cry she can't stop, she feels even weaker.

_Who am I kidding?_ She asks herself, tightening her arms around Maura. _I can't take care of her. She doesn't belong here. I can't force her to be here._ She closes her eyes as another painful cry meets her ears. _I never should've dragged her here. _

She holds back a sigh, wondering why she ever thought this would work in the first place. It's ridiculous, isn't it? Pulling someone out of their home and sticking them in a foreign place one hundred years in the future?

_I need to take her home. _

And then she remembers the journal and James and everything she has promised them.

_Everything from the stories you've heard will happen_, she remembers reading in the letter her grandpa gave her from James.

James wouldn't lie about something like this, would he? If he said a statement so clear and made sure the message was handed down through the generations, he must be pretty confident about it, mustn't he? He wouldn't put all that work into those journals and taking such descriptive observations over the years if he wasn't sure it would work out in the end.

He _said_ this would all work out.  
He _said_ Maura lives in the present with Jane.

_Then it's going to be okay_, she decides, her eyes shifting down to Maura's trembling body curled tightly within her arms. Taking a deep breath, she rests her cheek against the top of Maura's head while holding her close and tries her best to keep her from being erased entirely.

* * *

Maura rolls over in bed some time later, cracking open her eyes to be met by a dark room with a faint glow dimly illuminating the ceiling to her left. She quickly blinks a few times, frowning at the dull swirls in the plaster of the ceiling as she tries to recollect what happened. Her head hurts, not in the manner of a bruise, but she can feel a slight pounding situated directly above her eyes. She aimlessly rubs at the pounding area as she swallows thickly, trying to salivate her dry mouth. She grimaces at the taste. It's painfully bitter, and it makes her head hurt more.

Sighing inwardly, she lets her eyelids fall shut and drags her hand lazily from her brow to cover her eyes. Her soft fingers run across rough, dry skin. She finds her eyes raw and puffy.

"Maur?"

She pulls her hand away from her eyes, holding back a gasp at the sudden voice. She hasn't yet remembered where she is.

"Yes?" she asks after a moment. Her voice breaks with fatigue.

She waits for a response, but her ears are met by nothing more than that low, irritating, buzzing hum that many mistake as silence. After a minute she rolls onto her left side, toward the dim light and the sound of the voice that had called her name.

She's more than pleased as she finds Jane lying next to her, her dark eyes staring intently at Maura, concern covering her creased brow.

"How long have you been awake?" she asks, her features unmoving as she reaches across and runs her finger down the side of Maura's face.

Maura's eyes fall shut as she nudges her cheek into the touch. "Mm, not long." A smile graces her lips for a moment. "A couple minutes or so." She relaxes as Jane's fingers gently caress her sore, raw skin, the cool touch bringing her out of her sleep in the silence that follows.

Minutes later, the hand stills on her cheek. "What?" she asks, opening her eyes and locking them with Jane's.

"Are you… are you okay? Now I mean? Or will you be?"

Maura smiles and takes hold of Jane's still hand on her cheek, wrapping her fingers around the backside as she lazily drags it to her curled lips. "I'll be fine, Jane," she replies in a soft voice before pressing her parted lips to the palm of Jane's hand in a tender kiss.

"You're sure?" Jane asks, wanting to avoid any possible repeats of that afternoon.

"Well, Ms. Rizzoli," Maura begins with a little twinkle in her eye and a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "I will be, as long as you're here with me." She slides her fingers between Jane's from behind and presses her lips to the open palm once more. "Just… stay here with me for a while?" she asks, her eyebrows rising in plead.

The worry drains from Jane's face, her features softening at Maura's words.  
A smile finds its way to her lips for the first time in hours.

She shifts to make it easier as Maura timidly crawls to lie on top of her, a position she takes only when she needs to be held close to know she's safe. Jane complies and wraps her arms snuggly around Maura's back, tilting her head to plant a promising kiss to Maura's forehead. "Don't worry," she reassures her in a whisper, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Maura says in response, smiling against Jane's rising and falling chest. She exhales deeply, feeling her nerves take a sudden turn toward relaxation. "I'm sorry I, what is it you say nowadays, freaked out? I'm sorry I freaked out on you early," she mumbles softly, tiredly licking her lips. "I guess I was—"

"Shh, Maur, it's okay," Jane replies quietly. "I get it. You're homesick and… you don't have to explain it, ok?"

"Homesick?" she questions at first before agreeing, "I guess I am."

Jane breathes in deeply, releasing a slow breath as she allows her eyes to close. She runs her hands up and down Maura's back at a slow pace, almost unconsciously as she speaks nearly inaudibly, "You know you're not gone forever, Maura. You can still visit your home—"

"But Jane…" she begins and then hesitates.

Jane pauses the movement of her hands on Maura back, opening her eyes only to find Maura staring up at her. "What?" she asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the solace of the room.

Maura curls her lips up into a little smile, her eyes breaking away as they always do when she blushes, though the blush goes unnoticed in the darkness. "Jane, this is my home," she says gently. She forces her eyes back to Jane's. "My new home."

"This is just a hotel, Maura—"

"No! Jane, not this!" she says, her voice rising by a smidge as she motions about the room. "I don't care about the hotel, Jane, you know that. I mean," she pauses again, her hand dropping as her eyes leave Jane's once more. She places her hand flat against Jane's chest, lifting her head a little higher so she can see Jane better. "I mean this," she says, pressing gently on the left side of Jane's chest, roughly where her heart is situated. She smiles sweetly. "You, me, _this_," she nearly whispers, "Is my new home."

They stare at one another for a moment, their eyes locked, exchanging a few sacred words too significant to be said aloud.

Jane's lips pull back, a pleased smile adorning them. "Is it a permanent move?" she asks, running her hand through Maura's loose hair.

The angelic woman stretches until she can reach Jane's chin, where she then plants a chaste kiss with her parted lips. "I don't plan on looking for a new home any time soon, Ms. Rizzoli," she says and sends Jane a slight smirk in the dim light.

"So you're here to stay?"

Maura ignores the heat that rushes forth upon her cheeks, forcing herself to meet Jane's eyes and the curious gaze full of passion that resides in them. "I'm here to stay."

Sliding her hand from Maura's hair, across her cheek, and below her chin, she tilts her own head until her lips crash soundly against Maura's, colliding in a tender caress. Pulling away after a lengthy moment with a smile filling her features, she says softly, "Then welcome home, Ms. Isles."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: A Return Home and a Mother's Fall **

"What's here?" Maura asks softly, leaning in toward Jane as the taxi turns onto a residential road littered with quaint suburban houses, each resembling the next in shape and size. It's late afternoon. The two have spent the better part of the day at the hotel, merely lazing around with each other. Maura was still emotionally shot from the previous day's events, and Jane was in no role to push her around in such a state. So they took it easy.

The future could wait for them, anyway.

_It's weird,_ Maura thought a plentiful of times throughout the morning. So much has happened, she feels as though she can't slow down long enough to catch up with the current time, and yet nothing has changed. She's changed times; she's skipped forward from her own time; she's cheated history. In theory, shouldn't this be screwing up the world or, at the least, a part of the world of life today? Isn't history officially changed now?

She feels more should be different.

Shouldn't his move have made any kind of impact on the future, if only a little _dent_?

But from all she can see, the world is still revolving in the same manner it always has. Nothing is stopping, changing just because of her—regardless of how she feels about her sudden leave. She might have disappeared, vanished from history within the blink of an eye, the turn of a page, but apparently her disappearance hasn't made much of an impact on anyone.

_"It's because you were meant to come here," Jane had tried to explain sometime that morning, referencing the journal and letter and even her grandfather. "All along, Maura, even before I popped into your world, you were meant to vanish like this. I was meant to stumble upon that water pump by what seemed as an accident. We were supposed to meet, and all of this was meant to happen, Maura. It sounds crazy, I know, but it's as if it's written in stone."_

"Written in the stars," Maura had replied, eyes distant in the dim, hazy darkness of the hotel room. "Destiny. My mother's mentioned it more than a few times. She's always fancied the notion." She had smiled and brought her knees toward her chest, hugging them close.

Thoughts of her family still brought unwanted tears to her eyes, but now she brushes them aside and tries her best to focus on the here and now rather than wallowing in the past. She needs to stay in the present now. After all, this is her home now.

Glancing out of the window at the strange, similar one-story houses, she inhales deeply and resets her gaze on Jane. "Anything special?" she asks, still awaiting an answer.

Jane derails her vision out of the taxi window, distant. Unwilling. Avoiding.

"Jane."

She turns back shyly, finding Maura's hand snaking its way into her own. Fingers squeeze gently around her sweating palm. Looking down at her lap, she sighs in surrender.

"My dad."

Maura's eyes widen. "We're meeting your father?" she asks in exclaim, alarm in her tone. "Ms. Rizzoli, you should've told me sooner! I'm a mess, and you're taking me to meet your father!"

"Maur, you look fine."

"Of course you'd say that!" She meets Jane's eyes. "You love me."

The brown locked girl's lips twitch into a small, genuine smile, and she raises Maura's hand in her own to her lips where she then places a gentle kiss upon the soft skin. "That I do," she confirms, squeezing the hand within hers as they come to rest back upon the leather bench between their bodies. "But I am being honest. You look fine, not a hair out of place, and as beautiful as ever."

The honey blonde woman looks away. "Oh, stop." Her cheeks darken with a light, scattered blush.

Jane smirks in a loving manner. "It doesn't matter. He'll love you anyway."

"Really?" Maura looks hopeful, though doubt resides in her eyes. She receives another caring smile, another squeeze of the hand.

"Why wouldn't he?"

Silence elapses for the remainder of the car ride, which lasts only a few minutes. As the taxi slowly rolls to a stop against the curb, Maura can feel her nerves beginning to rush, fear and excitement taking over. She inhales deeply.

Doors open, the fee is paid, and moments later Jane and she are standing at the end of the driveway of a small, quaint little house, Jane's duffle in tow.

"Come on," Jane urges with a light smile and places her free hand against the small of Maura's back, gently guiding her toward the house. They stand on the front stoop for a good moment before Jane reaches forward to ring the doorbell.

Her hand noticeably shakes.

The doorbell can be heard through the door. A dog barks, excited by the prospect of visitors, slamming against the front door continuously. The two women share a glance, one trying not to look petrified, the other trying to show support and strength, swallowing her nerves and doubts. Seconds tick by with an everlasting feel. The dog barks hysterically, almost coming to its wit's ends. At last, a man's voice sounds close by, his low tone murmuring some calming words to the dog as a lock is turned in reverse, and the door is yanked open. A middle-aged man, clean shaven yet holding a sense of roughness, greets them with widened eyes, his posture bent as he tries to hold back the eager dog by the scruff of its neck.

"Janie." His tone holds a hint of surprise and underlying relief. "I, uh, wasn't expecting you to come, was I?" His eyes shift toward Maura for a slight moment, confusion settling in as he notes the placement of his daughter's arm around the girl's waist. His daughter catches his stare, but she doesn't dare pull away. Instead, her grip only tightens, her hand completely snaking around to Maura's far side. "Oh," her father corrects himself, "um, please, come in."

He moves backward into the house, dragging the dog by its collar as it continues to try and jump from his grip. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Jane in a friendly voice, closing the door behind the two women and releasing the dog.

The dog rushes over and jumps up on Jane, his paws reaching half way up the girl's torso and demanding a hug of greeting. Laughing, she obliges and begins rubbing the dog's head after dropping her duffel bag on the floor. "Uh, yeah," the daughter replies, still looking down at the dog that quickly decides it's time to sniff the newcomer. Maura stumbles backward with an uneasy grin, a little frightened as the hyper pup attempts to jump on her. "Here, boy," Jane urges and pulls the dog from Maura within seconds. A thankful grin rises upon Maura's lips. The brown locked teen smiles back before turning her gaze back to her father. "Oh, um," she corrects herself, almost forgetting the introductions again. Her nerves are on high, much higher than they usually are around her father. She clears her throat and straightens up, releasing the dog's collar. "Maura, this is my Dad, Frank, and Dad, this is Maura, my…" she pauses, stealing a quick look back at Maura for reassurance. _Aw, hell, might as well say it. _Breathing in deeply, her shoulders rising, she finishes in a confident tone with a smile on her face, "Dad, this is Maura, my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Frank questions as his eyes widen in surprise. His smile doesn't falter, though, and Jane breathes out in a sigh of relief. "Well." The father takes a few steps forward with his right hand extended. "It's nice to finally meet you, Maura. Jane doesn't usually make a special visit just to introduce someone new." He leans forward and lowers his voice. "Guess you must be someone special, huh?" He leans back with a wink.

A light blush of embarrassment scatters across the honey blonde women's cheeks as she grips the man's hand with a firm shake. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Rizzoli, really."

"Yes, yes, a pleasure indeed," the father says with a smile as he takes a step back and lets his eyes shift between the two girls for nearly a minute. "Well," he says after spending a moment to come back to reality; it's not every day he's graced with the opportunity of seeing his daughter—it's rather exhilarating to have her show up at random. But as reality hits Frank, he remembers the reason as to why his daughter is here instead of at home with her mother.

His face falls.  
His shoulders sink.

"Well, you two make yourselves at home, all right? I've got a ca—" he stops himself from saying his exact reason. "I'll be right back, okay?" he says before disappearing into the kitchen where he regretfully picks up the telephone.

* * *

"Oh, thank god you're all right!" Angela exclaims the following day, dropping her purse at the opened front door and taking her daughter in a tight, air-stealing embrace. She closes her eyes and leans her head against Jane's as she inhales deeply and releases the air as a long, drawn-out sigh of relief. "Oh, Janie," she whispers as she lightly swings her back and forth. Her heart races and then slows, thumping lowly in her ears from the rush of nerves and emotions. The worry that had engulfed her for the past couple days drains wildly, leaving her with the strength of a wrecking ball slamming against a wall.

As the worry drains, the fury kicks in.

She loosens her grip around Jane and moves just far enough away to smack Jane on the shoulder. "What were you thinking?" she asks, her voice reaching a tone of hysteria. "You had me worried out of my mind, just running off like that! Do you know what I thought happened to you? Oh my god…" she trails off, gingerly rubbing her forehead with one hand, as if soothing a pounding a migraine. A few seconds later, she returns her attention to Jane. Her eyes are pointed with anger. "You know, I thought they'd call me after finding your remains, or worse, they'd never call, and you'd just turn into another missing person who we'd never see or hear from ever again just like your…"

Her eyes fall upon a familiar girl, a young woman, standing timidly off to the side, her arms crossed delicately across her chest.

"Great-great-aunt…" she finishes in a low, almost silent whisper.

Angela allows her daughter to break away from her grasp and lets her arms hang limp by her sides. She recognizes the girl; she remembers her running out of the house like a scared fawn that one day, months before. She remembers her angelic face, her soft features so eerily similar to that old, worn photograph.

Chills rise upon the back of her neck as she stares at her.

It's as if someone pulled her great-aunt straight out of that photograph and placed her in her ex-husband's living room.

Her skin is as pale as that in the black-and-white photograph back home, lying stuck in the pages of her mother's genealogy book, her hair just as she imagined the color to look like. For only meeting this girl once, she looks bizarrely out of place in the jeans and t-shirt she wears at the moment. She recognizes the clothing as some of Jane's old apparel. But the reason as to why this girl is wearing her daughter's old clothing is a mystery to Angela. All of it seems to barely fit. From the call from Frank the night before informing her that Jane was there with her _girlfriend_ to the girl who eerily resembles her grandfather's sister, standing there shyly, clad in her daughter's old clothing. None of the pieces fit, none of the events connect in her troubled mind.

"Ma," Jane interrupts, breaking into her fuzzy confusion. She turns and meets her eyes, her own wide with lack of understanding. "Ma, I'm sorry," the younger woman continues, apology clearer in her tone than in her words. She adds on softly, "I wasn't thinking. I just… we couldn't stay there."

Angela's brow contracts in confusion. "_We?_" Her eyes drift toward the girl with the light honey blonde hair in understanding. "Oh." She nods once. "But why couldn't you just stay there?"

"It was too dangerous," Jane blurts out before she can stop the words from falling from her lips. She bites her tongue too late.

"Dangerous?" Puzzlement dominates the mother's features.

The daughter's face flushes, her cheeks turning white as she realizes what she said. She can't backtrack now, but she can't explain the situation to her mother right here and now without being sent off to some loony bin. She knows how crazy the situation sounds aloud. It's nothing more than some foolishness, a handful of folly sure to gain her more questions than she can handle.

Lost in her worried thoughts, she jumps as a hand gently touches her forearm. She turns to find Maura at her side, her bright hazel eyes glancing around nervously before timidly meeting Jane's. She keeps her back toward Angela, facing Jane in hopes of finding some form of comfort.

"Jane," she whispers, her tone shaky and uncertain. "Jane, how do we…?" She can't finish her question, though her unspoken words are more than clear to Jane.

The brown locked woman breathes in deeply and lightly places her hand upon the side of Maura's face, near the chin, nudging the woman's head just enough so their eyes are forced to meet. A weak smile adorns her lips. "Just let me worry about that," she replies lowly.

"Should I…?"

"No, just… I'll tell her," she whispers, almost forgetting the close proximity of her mother. She spares her a glance, a blush scattered across her cheeks, and lightly shoos Maura from the living room.

Angela watches the hushed exchange, feeling surprisingly excluded. Their closeness and intimate behavior brings a wave of shock splashing against her nerves.

The chills spread to her forearms, and she crosses her arms to hide her sudden goosebumps.

"Janie?" she asks in a more demanding tone once they're alone. "What's going on?"

The younger woman releases a long sigh and leans against the side of the couch. She pinches the bridge of her nose, her head slightly bowed. "More than you could ever imagine, Ma," she replies quietly. She keeps her eyes closed.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, try me, Jane. It can't be that complicated."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she replies, finally opening her eyes to find her mother now standing by her side, a concerned, caring look filling her blotchy eyes. Apparently she had put her through more pain than necessary. Guilt kicks her in the gut, and she mumbles sensitively, "I'm sorry."

A humble smile crawls onto Angela's lips as she wraps one arm around her daughter in a slight hug. "It's okay now."

"Yeah, but still."

"Still, you need to tell me what exactly is going on around here," she says.

Jane's shoulders rise and fall heavily as she takes a deep breath. "If I told you right now," she pauses shortly and meets her mother's eyes, "you wouldn't believe a word of it."

Angela tilts her head, curious. "And why's that?"

With a gentle sigh, she rubs her face to distract herself. "Because it's crazy," she says rather nonchalantly. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's real and… you wouldn't believe me, even if I do tell you everything right now. You really wouldn't believe me."

"Well." Angela dips her head to catch her daughter's eyes. "You won't know until you try."

Jane inhales deeply, taking her time as she lets the air fill every crevice of her lungs. She holds it for a lengthy moment, staring her mother square in the eyes as she does so. She wants to tell her. She wants her to know. She doesn't like leaving her in the dust like this. It isn't fair to her, she knows, and she needs her on their side. She needs her support and assistance, and she knows she can't keep this from her forever.

She allows the air to escape her lungs in a long, shaky exhale, never breaking her eyes from her mother's.

* * *

"Constance, you're coming to bed tonight," Mr. Isles states blankly as he passes the parlor on the way to his office, a folded paper from work in hand. He hears no response as he quietly places the paper on his desk. That's quite odd, he thinks to himself, raising his head with a curious look in his eyes. Even in this state, she usually says something. Walking to the ajar door of his office, he calls out briskly, "Constance?"

His only response in the silence is a shuffling of footsteps from the second floor, footsteps of which he knows belong to James.

"Constance?" he tries again, his voice harder and louder.

The faint chirping of crickets outside proves louder than the silence that follows his question.

A small, distant voice in the back of his head suggests that maybe she's finally fallen asleep in that god dammed chair near the front window of the parlor, but his logic knows better. She wouldn't dare fall asleep in a chair. With one last straw of hope, though, he calls out to the dark hallway, "Constance?"

A cold chill scampers down his spine as there's still no response.

Not wasting a second more, Mr. Isles dashes out of his office to the parlor, unconsciously chanting his wife's name in frantic question as he moves. His eyes widen and he swears his heart pauses in fright as he stares at the chair near the window that had become Mrs. Isles' niche the past few days of Maura's absence.

It's vacant.

He walks over to it, still questioning "Constance?" as if she's only playing a game of hide-and-seek with him, as if she'll suddenly pop out from behind the other side of the chair. But as he circles the chair twice, he realizes his hopes are foolish. He peeks under the chair, only to be certain.

Alas, no Constance is found.

He calls out again, pausing between shouts to listen for her response, but no response ever comes. He checks the other rooms on the first floor, rushing to the kitchen and peering under the table and chairs in the dining room. He takes the steps to the second floor two at a time, still yelling out his wife's name. He checks under beds, opens closets, and double checks behind opened doors. Mr. Isles only succeeds in finding clumps of dust and fallen objects that have long been forgotten.

"Father, what's wrong?"

He turns at a tug on his sleeve and finds James standing behind him, his young eyes wide and glistening with worry and curiosity.

"Have you seen your mother?" the father asks, glancing past his son. "I can't seem to find her anywhere."

James contracts his thin eyebrows, partly confused and partly worried by the statement. He looks up at his father's worried face and shakes his head, feeling guilt pang at his heart, regardless of his lack of fault in the situation. "No," he replies quietly, "I thought she was downstairs in her chair. Isn't that where she is?" His voice raises a level in fear as he sees the answer etched into the worried wrinkles on Mr. Isles' face. "Daddy? She's not there? Where—"

"She has to be somewhere," the father says, determination taking over his tone as he shoves past his son and hurries back down the stairs to the first floor of the house. He pauses at the bottom of the staircase, across from the front door, and glances around, uncertain of which way to turn, which tactic to take. He swallows thickly, hearing his son trampling down the stairs behind him.

With a shallow breath, he turns back into the parlor and approaches the chair, but this time not with the false hope of finding his wife sitting upon the soft cushion. Instead, he sits stiffly on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees, his chin cradled between his fingers in a pondering pose, and stares out through the window and into the dim, evening darkness of the front yard. He stares intently, not blinking for several seconds. He shifts his gaze around the area, from the treetops to the grassy floor, all the way to the front walk, prepared to catch any sign of movement.

Nothing moves, though.  
The front lawn is as tranquil as a windless desert.

After a few minutes of staring, his eyes focus on an object that looks eerily out of place near the front walk, a mass lying in the grass.

His eyes widen as he squints for a better look.

"Constance!" he shouts and leaps out of the chair.

Mr. Isles runs out of the front door, letting it bang against the wall and leaving it wide open as he leaves the house. His heart beats steadily, thumping violently in his ears as he rushes down the few steps of the porch and down the front walk. He throws himself down into the grass as he approaches the heap that he had rightly guessed to be his wife.

"Constance, dear," he whispers, shock prevailing in his tone as he kneels in the grass, disregarding the dampness that soaks the knees of his trousers.

With the highest, utmost caution and gentleness, he shifts his fallen wife into his lap, situating her limp, heavy head in the crook of his bent left arm.

A wave of nausea sweeps over him as he takes in the sight before him.

Mrs. Isles is unconscious, her eyes closed in a dreadful slumber, a crease of worry permanently etched into the middle of her forehead. Her frail body is limp, yet heavy, such as that of a sleeping child. Her nightgown is damp from the wet grass, and the bottom hem is smeared with grass stains. Though not a result of her escape, her hair is drawn back into a messy makeshift bun with loose strands poking out every which way.

Compared to her normal state, it's a disturbing scene. Mrs. Isles is a strong woman, a woman of high morale, social code, and character. Mrs. Constance Isles has a backbone. This woman in Mr. Isles' arms, though, is nothing like his wife. This fallen woman is not strong; her body is weak and frail. This woman is not of the same high morale and character as his wife; she has no dignity.

But as he brushes aside a few loose strands of her graying hair and lightly smears away a faint smudge of mud from above her left eyebrow, he catches a distant similarity between this woman and his wife.

She may have more gray hairs and worry lines across her skin than he remembers, but her sleeping face is certainly one he could never forget. The way her lips part just so in the middle… he couldn't mistake her sleeping face, despite the glare painted across her brow as though something is not quite right.

"Connie…" The name falls from his lips as he lifts her and stands up, cradling her in his arms as he once did after their marriage. He walks slowly back to the house, easing his way up the steps as to not disturb her slumber. Turning, he enters the parlor and carefully lays her unconscious body upon the couch. She stirs lightly, a muffled, tired grunt escaping her.

Mr. Isles kneels beside the couch and takes one of his wife's hands in his. He gently squeezes, observing with an intent stare as the woman's eyes visibly move behind her closed lids. The muscles of her face twitch as they would if she was about to leave behind her state of sleep, but she resists.

The worried man spares a glance over his shoulder and out the window his wife had watched so persistently the past few days. She hasn't slept, and she hasn't bothered eating much more than a scone or two, as far as he knows. And as he returns his gaze back to his wife, it's more than noticeable.

Releasing a soft sigh, he brings her delicate hand to his lips and places a tender kiss upon the slim, cold fingers.

He manages a lopsided smile, unsure of what words to say or what to do. He wishes to awake her, to learn the whole story, and to comfort her and tell her again and again that none of this is her fault. Maura is gone out of her free will; Maura left for reasons they can't quite comprehend, but none of those reasons, he's positive, are her. She might have been harsh, but no harsher than he. And she might have been a little demanding, but her words and actions would never push their daughter to such drastic measures.

No matter how often he reassures her that it's not her fault, that she did nothing wrong, though, she never believes him.

She only continues staring at the front lawn with false hope that Maura will soon appear out of thin air.

Maura's absence has taken quite a toll on her and her wellbeing. And seeing her sleep for the first time since her leave, Mr. Isles decides it best to let her be for once. As much as he wishes to awake her, he doesn't. He simply stays by her side and awaits the end of her sleep to address her.

He stays there the entire night, never taking a moment to rest his own tired eyes.

When James wakes up the following morning, he finds his mother and father in the same position. His father sends him a gentle smile as he hears him walking past the parlor.

"Is she okay?" James asks in almost a whisper, pausing in the doorway.

His father glances at his still sleeping wife before looking back at his son. "She'll be fine," he replies. "Maura being gone has simply had a quite… _hard_ effect on your mother."

James nods in understanding and shuffles away, his head bowed in slight guilt. He wishes his sister were back. He knows where she is, but he can't dare tell their mother. Tears prick at his eyes, but he ignores the want to cry.

Even though he knows it's a foolish, juvenile thought, if he had known this was to be the outcome, he feels he could've stopped Maura from leaving.

Or at least, he would have tried.

* * *

Jane wimped out.

She couldn't do it. Not yet.

She couldn't spill the entire story to her mother as if it were just a recap of a boring day at school. It isn't so simple. This is complex and terrifying, and she can't imagine letting someone else in on the secret so easily.

In fact, she kind of prefers keeping it all hush-hush. It's comforting knowing Maura and she are in this almost alone, with the help of James and Jane's grandfather, of course. Suddenly turning and opening the doors to let her mother in on the whole story is irking.

And so, she chickened out.

She came up with a lame excuse and earned a week's time before Angela's forces her to leak everything to her. That was her ultimatum.  
_  
"Okay, so you can't tell me what's going on, but it involves your grandpa and Maura, and Maura has to stay with us?" Angela sends her daughter a look of disbelief as she nods in a simple response. She takes a deep breath, folding her arms across her chest as she grapples the situation. "You know I don't like this?"_

Another nod is Jane's reply.

"Okay," she begins and shakes her head to rid of any doubt, "fine. Maura will go home with us, and I'll let her stay the next few days, but I need to know what's going on here, Janie. I need some explanation." She stares at her intently for a moment's time. "I can tell there's a lot more going on here than I can comprehend."

A faint smile of agreement twitches upon Jane's lips.

Angela smiles gently in response. "You need to explain this, all of it, whatever it is, to me within the week, Janie."

Jane didn't argue with her. Instead, she thanked her, literally kissing her with gratitude for being _so incredibly_ lenient. She had to lie to her and explain that Maura's parents were out of town at the moment. She was noticeably lying, but Angela didn't question her. She knew, somehow, by some sort of gut feeling, Maura's parents would fall into the picture somewhere along the line once she learned the whole story.

_The story_, Jane thinks with a heavy sigh while sitting next to Maura in the backseat of her mother's car later that same day. It's amazing her mother gave her more time to muster up the courage to let her in on the situation, but she still has no idea how to spill the beans.

In the midst of her brainstorming, wracking her mind for some method of proper communication, she can't help but wonder how it would've been if she had stayed in 1908 with Maura. A little part of her feels it would've been better, easier, but her logic rules out the feeling within a moment. After all, that's not how it's supposed to happen. That's not what the journals have written in them, and that's not part of the stories that James told his children so many years before.

* * *

"Good to be home, isn't it, Janie?" Angela asks as the three stumble in through the front door, Maura staying close to Jane.

Jane mutters a simple, "Yeah," under her breath, but she wishes they were far, far away from here. This house is too close to the park, too close to the past. Far too close for her liking, but she doesn't have much of a choice.

As soon as Angela leaves them to converse with her friend, whom she had gotten at the last minute to watch Frankie while she went to find Jane, the two girls hurry up the stairs to Jane's room, a semi-familiar place for Maura.

Maura saunters into the room with a faint smile on her face, glancing around at her surroundings, which are now her new home. It's different, of course, and nothing like what she'd personally identify as home, but she doesn't get much say in the matter at this point. She's here, and she's here to stay. She's not making a new home; she's joining one.

"I'm sorry," Jane says in a regretful tone as she closes the door behind her after following Maura into her bedroom.

Maura turns around, a look of slight confusion resting upon her forehead. "Sorry about what, Ms. Rizzoli?"

The brown locked woman chuckles gently, coming up to the other woman, and weaves her arms around Maura's slim, tantalizing waist. Nudging her cheek softly against Maura's, she replies quietly, "I really thought we'd pull off staying at my dad's much longer than that." She lets her eyes fall shut as she breathes in, her nose finding its way into the depths of Maura's hair. "And what's with this Ms. Rizzoli stuff again, hm?" she asks with a little, breathy laugh, dragging Maura in a little closer to herself. She presses a tender kiss to the side of Maura's neck. "I feel like you're talking to my Ma half the time." She laughs again. "It _is_ kind of disturbing."

"Is it?" Maura inquires as she relaxes and molds into Jane's arms, letting herself fall to the consistency of jello against her love's body. "I'm sorry, I won't say it again, Ms. Rizz—"

She's cut off by a teasing nip at the neck.

She corrects herself quickly, "Jane. I mean Jane. Jane…" She allows her voice to hold the name as she pushes herself back far enough to place her lips against Jane's in a sweet kiss. She ignores the heat that rushes forth to her cheeks.

In the midst of their gentle kisses, Maura pulls away, pausing Jane with an open palm to the chest.

"What?" Jane asks, impatience and slight irritation clear in her tone.

The honey blonde woman furrows her brow in concentration, shushing Jane harshly. "Did you hear that?" she asks in a whisper a moment later.

"What?"

"That laughter."

Jane can't help but laugh softly in response, earning a glare from Maura.

"Maura, it's Frankie. His room's right next to mine." She points her thumb over her shoulder for emphasis.

Maura shakes her head. "That was a rather familiar laugh, though, Ms. Rizzoli."

"So maybe you heard him laugh before, Ms. Isles, so what" she says and attempts to drag Maura back for another light kiss, but Maura won't allow it.

"No." She shakes her head, her forehead still creased as she listens to the muted, muffled voices from the other room. "I know that laugh, Jane. That's… why that's…" Her eyes widen as the answer hits her.

Without sparing Jane a look, she shoves past her and runs out of the bedroom, Jane following suit moments later. She finds Maura sanding in the now open doorway to Frankie's bedroom, paralyzed with a dropped jaw.

Worried and curious, she moves to see what's causing the shock only to be hit by the same surprise.

Sitting on the floor in Frankie's bedroom, kneeling close to the small, blue television is a young boy, clad in a nice shirt and trousers that are clearly not from the 21st century.

"James!" Maura yells in a hushed whisper, walking into Frankie's room without so much as a knock.

The young boy turns around at the sound of his name. "Maura," he says excitedly, a gleeful smile gracing his parted lips, "have you seen one of these boxes yet?" He points excitedly toward the television. With large, glistening eyes, he lowers his tone, as if sharing a sacred secret, "They've got _people_ in there, Maura! _Real_ people! Look!"

Maura shakes her head, glancing at the television before returning her attention unto her little brother. She kneels next to the child and places a hand on his shoulder to show her desire to speak with him. "James," she begins once meeting her brother's eyes, "what in the _world_ are you doing here?"

The boy's youthful face turns serious at the question, and he remembers why he truly is there in the first place. "I came to see you, Maura," he says frankly.

Maura glances around the bedroom, so bold and masculine and so obviously the room of a little boy. "And how did you even get into Jane's house?"

"Her brother answered the door, and I told him who I was," he says so matter-of-factly. "And then he told the baby-sitter, I think that's what he called her, that I was a friend of his."

"But how'd you know I'd be here? I never did tell you where I was going."

"Where else would you go?" His eyes shift toward Jane, who is standing in the doorway. "I know you wouldn't run off on your own, and you don't have any other friends—"

"Oh, hush," Maura stops him. A faint glare crawls across her features as her jaw stiffens ever so slightly. "So you came all the way here to just _drop in_?"

James glares back, his lower lip jutting out in a childish pout. "No," he replies in a bitter tone. "I came because you need to come home."

The older sister can only manage a dumbfounded look and a blank stare in immediate response, unable to reply verbally. Words of agreement and disagreement come dashing out of her mind, each wishing to be spoken, and each pushing its way to the front of the line. "J-James," she stumbles over the name in her current thoughts, "I—"

"Can't and aren't going home," Jane supplies, butting into the conversation and gaining a look of hurt confusion from the young boy. She sighs in exasperation and fully enters her brother's room, finding him not even there. "James, look," she says as she approaches the siblings and joins their little powwow, plopping onto the floor and situating herself in a cross-legged position. She folds her hands in her lap and meets the child's gaze, her voice a little softer, and her tone a little friendlier. "I'm not trying to be mean, but… you said you found that journal, yeah?"

James nods, chewing his lower lip.

"Do you know what that journal's all about?"

The young boy takes a deep breath before replying in a whisper, "The future."

"Right, which is technically now, yeah?" she questions, receiving a tentative nod from James. "The journal recollects everything that's happening right now, and if you take Maura back to 1908… let's just say Mother Earth won't be too happy about that."

"But _our_ mother would be," James rebuttals in an almost inaudible tone, lowering his gaze.

A light chill runs across Maura's back at the soft-spoken statement. "What?" she asks in a hesitant tone, "what's wrong with Mother?"

With a look of uncertainty rushing forth upon his features, the young boy meets his sister's eyes once more. "Father said Mother's not taking your absence very well," his voice becomes a tad shaky. "She's barely slept or eaten since you left. She just sits in the parlor with a chair near the front window." He shifts his gaze away and sniffles once, trying to keep it hidden as he turns his head away from Maura. "All she does is stare out at the front yard, as if you'll simply come running out of the trees."

"What's Father doing?" Maura asks, hugging her arms while attempting to keep a confident appearance. She shoves up an invisible wall in hopes that James' words won't get to her. She _can't_ let them get to her, after all. She has to ignore them. She needs to stay emotionally unattached.

Because otherwise she knows it won't take much more than a plead to have her running back to the past with James.

James sniffs again and looks back at his older sister. "Well, right now he's helping Mother. Last evening he found her collapsed next to the front walk, outside. I don't know why or how she got out there… but I saw him carrying her in… he looked rather worried."

"They're taking it that hard?" Maura asks, glancing over at Jane and receiving a blank stare in response.

The younger brother nods. "And Mother thinks it's her fault that you left. Daddy's told her it isn't, and I've tried to tell her, too, but she won't listen. She just keeps staring outside, waiting. I don't know what to do, Maura. She needs you back home. Even Father needs you back home."

Maura looks over at Jane for help at a response, help for the next move. She's clueless as to where to go from this moment. Her younger brother's pleading for her to come home, back to the past, but she very well knows she can't. If she were to return to 1908…

She shudders at the thought, shaking her head to herself.  
She doesn't wish to think about that.

"James," Jane jumps in, seeing Maura's eyes go out of focus as she resorts to the world of her own thoughts.

The little boy turns his attention to the brown locked teen in the rather atrocious clothing.

"James, have you told your mom that Maura _is_ okay?"

James shakes his head. "No," he says as confusion inches onto his brow. "She wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Hmm," Jane hums lowly and pulls her right leg up to her chest, hugging it lightly. She scrunches up one side of her mouth in thought. "Well." She glances over at Maura only to find her still lost in her thoughts. "We'll think of something to make it all back to normal, okay?"

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Frost mutters with a heavy sigh two days later. He curls his hands into fists to try and rid of some of his nauseating nerves, but the thick layer of sweat only causes his fingers to slide against his palms in a slick mess. _Shit._ His anxiety thickens. "Remind me again why I'm here?"

"You're here," Jane begins, a smile filling her lips, "because you're a nut who loves the idea of time travel."

The nervous teen rolls his eyes. "In movies, maybe, but in real life? Jane, I've told you before. It's ridiculous and completely impossible."

"Hey, then what am I, Mr. Frost?" Maura speaks up, offense and hurt in her tone. "Are you calling me a fake, sir? An imposter? Please, do explain."

"Well, you…" Frost lets his eyes size up Maura in the mid-afternoon sunlight. A look of intense pondering conquers his face for the time being. Maura looks so out of place, that much he can tell, but as to if she's a fake? That he can't tell, not easily at least. After a moment's passing, he releases a defeated sigh, shrugging. "I don't know what you are."

"And James?" The angelic woman persists, her luscious honey blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she defiantly crosses her arms against her chest. "You can't deny his existence—"

"I'm not denying his existence, or yours," the darker man defends himself, leaning against the rotting picnic table. "I'm just not so sure you're from where you say you're from. I mean, come on, you really expect me to believe that you can jiggle the handle on that water pump and you'll magically be transported to the past? Do you know how idiotic and make-believe that sounds? Or how impossible it is?"

"But you've seen us, Mr. Frost," Maura says quietly, walking in a pacing manner near the picnic table, her head bowed and eyes observing the dying grass beneath her feet. A light breeze blows and rustles her hair, relieving the three of the humidity for far too short a moment. Pausing her pacing, Maura raises her gaze from the choppy, brown-green blades of the park's floor and sets her eyes back upon Frost in an intent stare. "You've been here before, Mr. Frost," she reiterates, her voice a sour contrast to her pleasant appearance. "You took my brother and me and stayed until we were no longer in your sight. You've seen us vanish. How do you explain that in your logical mind?"

Frost rolls his entire head to the side, almost in an annoyed manner. So he's been caught, but he doesn't wish to admit that. "I dunno," he says with a shrug, "maybe you come from a long line of professional illusionists?"

"Frost." Jane laughs while pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head in exasperation. "You're an idiot."

"Right, of course, that makes perfect sense, Jane." The boy throws his arms up in frustration. "_I'm_ the idiot because I don't believe humans can actually time travel. That's _real_ logical."

A heavy silence falls over the three as the humidity sinks back in, sweat perspiring across their skin. Frost's sour tone hangs in the air, his words striking Maura and Jane with a brisk slap to the face. The honey blonde woman returns to pacing once more, her arms still crossed firmly against her chest. A look of frightened determination adorns her features.

She stops in her pacing and faces Frost, a cold sweat rising on her neck despite the beating sun of the August afternoon. "Okay, putting all logic aside, Mr. Frost, will you please do this, for me?" she asks, unwilling to beat around the bush any longer. "If you hate the experience, or if your molecules get all rearranged, like you're afraid of, I guarantee Jane and I will never force you to go there ever, _ever_ again. I swear on my grave, Mr. Frost."

Jane's eyes shift toward Maura at the expression, the hairs rising on her neck in uneasiness.  
Thinking of Maura's grave always gives her a feeling of weak, inferior powerlessness.

Frost inhales deeply and meets Maura's eyes across the several feet separating them. He mirrors Maura's stance, his arms also crossed firmly against his chest. He relaxes and allows them to hang by his sides as he releases the breath in a light sigh. "Well," he says, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he takes a quick look down at his clothing, "I'm already dressed for the occasion, aren't I?"

A smile of thankfulness erupts across Maura's entire face, filling every crevice of worry with grateful relief. "Really?"

The boy shrugs as his smirk transforms into a smile. "Yeah, yeah. I'll go."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Mr. Frost, I—"

"Maura, it's okay to call me Barry or Frost, all right? Not Mr. Frost."

Maura smiles at Frost's grimace and wraps her arms around the man in a thankful hug, sharing a look of elation with Jane over Frost's shoulder. "Well thank you, _Barry_. I don't think you quite understand how… how…" She releases Frost and steps back, meeting his eyes. "Important and… _monumental_ this is."

"I think I'd prefer not to know how much I'm changing history," Frost says as he stands up from the picnic table and brushes off his behind, pulling at his wool trousers in the process.

The clothes Jane and Maura had managed to find for him aren't exactly the most pleasant or itch-free attire of the early 1900s. The brown trousers are thick and rather itchy, though the light, button-up blouse, he'd have to say, is actually lighter than his usual t-shirt. The top two buttons are undone, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He feels as if he is ready to go out for some trick-or-treating, or dressing up for some old theater play.

"Okay," Frost says, brushing his hand through his short, black hair as he walks over toward the water pump. He turns his back to it and faces Maura and Jane, smiles on each of their faces. "So… how do I look? Like a native?"

Maura and Jane laugh at the question, but Maura nods with an eager grin pinned to her lips. "Surprisingly, you do, Mr. Fro—I mean, Barry."

"Great." Frost smiles, proudly and walks around the water pump, cautiously placing one hand on it. "So I guess I should…"

"Yes, while it's still the afternoon."

"Is there anything else I need?"

"Well, be sure to tell my parents you're from Springfield. They have friends from there, whom they absolutely adore," Maura says, her smile faltering by a nearly invisible tad. "They love everyone they meet from there."

The teenager dressed in the early 1900s attire nods, trying his best to retain the information. "Okay, Springfield, and say I—"

"Met us on your way into town," Jane finishes, reiterating the entire story they had conjured earlier that morning.

"Right." Frost nods again.

"And play it up, Frost," Jane encourages. "Make it believable."

He nods again. "I will. Anything else?"

"Remember to tell them I'm doing well," Maura adds on, her eyes distant as she speaks the words. "And tell them I… tell them I love them, all right?"

Frost glances down at the water pump, his fingers inching around the handle as he nods again. "I will," he promises with a half-confident smile. He breathes in deeply after Jane sends him the okay to leave. His fingers wrap around the warm handle of the water pump, and he closes his eyes as his stomach churns at the thought of what he's about to do. It's insane, but he pushes the little voice of reason to the back of his head and ignores his nerves for once in his life. Releasing the air from his lungs, he ends his hesitance and jiggles the handle, picked up and carried away by a teasing breeze.

The leaves rustle as the breeze dies down, and Maura and Jane stare blankly at the spot where Frost had stood only moments before.

"He went," Jane states in a flat tone.

Maura nods lightly and looks away, turning to wrap her arms around Jane's body in a hug of reassurance. "Yes," she says quietly, "I only hope it works. I hope my parents believe him." She rests her head on Jane's shoulder.

Time has certainly passed. Maura has grown and changed from when they first met, but how she wishes they were still back in those early days, the days of nervousness and uncertainty, when neither was sure of what to say or do in fright of scaring the other away. Back then, their worries were so meek and childish. The only thoughts plaguing their minds were about love and happiness.

Now they have much larger matters about which to worry. Will Maura's parents believe Frost's story? Will her mother accept her words through someone else's mouth? Or will her family fall apart in the past? Will she be able to cope in the future, even with Jane by her side?

Every thought makes her mind swim with stress and uneasiness, and she wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with Jane's arms wrapped around her in everlasting safety.

It's a childish thought, she knows. She can't simply ignore the questions and worries. She can only attempt to find the answers and hope that everything turns out okay in the end.

And as if reading her mind, Jane reassures her in a gentle, tender whisper against her ear, "Everything will be okay."

Maura breathes in shakily and tightens her arms around Jane, feeling Jane's arms react in an identical manner around her waist. "I hope you're right, Jane, I really hope you are."

"It'll be okay, somehow it will be." The brown locked woman turns and plants a kiss of the lightest kind to Maura's soft cheek in a silent promise.

* * *

**The Springfield mentioned is Springfield, Massachusetts, NOT Springfield, Illinois, if any of you were wondering.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28: 100 Years **

**Chapter Rated ****_M_**

"Shit…" Frost whispers to the still late afternoon air, a light breeze dying against his skin. As he glances around, turning his head, he never removes his hand from the cool water pump. The dirty scenery of the usual park is gone. Maura and Jane are nowhere to be seen. The rotten picnic table is gone, and what remains causes his eyes to widen and sparkle with childish delight and surprise.

The trees are different, much more… _lively_ and youthful. Instead of the dead, straw-like grass, rich shrubs with drooping flowers surround him. And across from the catatonic teenager stands a tall, majestic, intimidating house.

He gulps thickly.

_The Isles house_, he knows instinctively.

"It worked," he finishes aloud as a joyous smile flares upon his lips, and an almost maniac laugh falls from his open mouth. "It really worked." _It's just like Jane described. _

A faint, almost invisible movement of a window curtain on the second story shakes him from his momentary reverie, easily sending away his smile and fascination as he soon remembers why he's here. It might be overwhelming and mesmerizing and absolute insanity, but he needs to stay focused. After all, he's here on a mission.

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts and to find the courage he had temporarily misplaced, the boy finally leaves the luscious green yard and slowly walks toward the house. His sJaneach flips and flops with each step.

Coming to a halt at the front door, he inhales deeply before laying a shrill rap with his knuckle on the thick mahogany door. The knock reverberates as he pulls nervously at his foreign clothing, the trousers riding up uncomfortably. He fidgets.

A minute later the door is swung open, revealing a woman of middle age. She looks… _catawampus_, from her mussed hair to her wrinkled gown. A glint of hope resides in her twinkling irises, but it quickly fades as her eyes fall upon the visitor on her front porch. He's obviously not whom she had expected, let alone wished to see. Pushing the door a little farther shut rather than open, a change overcomes her as she realizes it's not whom she wants to be knocking on her door. "Yes?" she inquires sharply. "What may I help you with?"

"Um, hi," Frost stammers on his own words in immediate dumbfounded reply. "My name's Barry Frost, and I…" His eyes shift away from the woman, whom he can only assume to be Mrs. Isles, as he runs through the made-up storyline in his head, digging to find the right words and the correct phrases. "I was in town for, uh, for business, and I ran into these two young… fellows. The one, a Ms. Maura Isles, wished for me to—"

He cuts his sentence short as the fragile woman releases a tiny squeak of surprise, her hand daintily covering her mouth. A layer of slick tears rush forth to cover her eyes.

The teen shifts his weight between his feet uneasily. "Um, this is the Isles household, isn't it?"

The woman nods. "Yes, yes it is," she replies through her hand, her voice muffled. "Maura Dorthea, _Maura_," she corrects, "is my daughter. I haven't heard any news of or from her in…" She pauses, averting her eyes as a distant look settles in her pupils, her brow waning by a nearly unnoticeable amount. After falling a moment into her thoughts, she gives a little shake of the head and sends the young man at her door an apologetic smile. It trembles a smidge, unsteady upon her lips. "She's been gone for far too many days. You must excuse me, Mr.…"

"Frost."

"Frost, yes." A light blush scatters her pale complexion. "I am simply… overwhelmed to hear any news of her. I still…" The woman shakes her head again, her mannerisms becoming nervous, the look in her eyes growing more and more distant. "Had she anything important to say? Was she in good health? And you said she was with someone? Who? Was she with Byron?" Her face brightens in vain. "Oh, that would be marvelous!" Smiling, she opens the door, unwilling to wait to hear about her daughter. "Please." She takes a step aside and motions for Frost to enter. "Come in, Mr. Frost, please come in out of the heat. Richard! We have a visitor!"

As her light, happy words hang in the air behind the closed door, Frost's jaw drops and his eyes widen with glorious fixation. _It's like a movie set. _"Just like she described," he accidentally whispers aloud.

Mrs. Isles' brow contracts slightly. "Hmm?"

He turns at her voice. "Oh, it's nothing, just… your home is pretty cool."

"Cool?"

"Um, cool as in," he swallows deeply, maintaining a calm face as he finds a way to backtrack out of his slipup, "beautiful, Mrs. Isles. This is quite a lovely home you have."

She smiles in graciousness, the action feeling so alien to her facial muscles; her lips haven't been pulled up into such a curvature for many days. "Why thank you, Mr. Frost, we do try—"

"Mr. Frost?"

They both turn as Mr. Isles, Frost assumes, enters the main entrance of the house, placing his spectacles to rest back upon the bridge of his nose as he greets their unexpected guest with a warm smile.

"Yes, Richard," Mrs. Isles replies eagerly, her unusual smile clearly taking her husband off guard. "This is Mr. Frost. He was coming to town on business, and he ran into Maura Dorthea."

"You don't say," the man says, his smile growing a tad friendlier as he extends his right hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Frost. I'm Mr. Isles, Maura's father."

Frost accepts with a firm shake of the hand. "The pleasure's mine, Mr. Isles."

Minutes later the three find themselves seated in the grand parlor of the Isles house, Frost sitting at the edge of one cushioned chair while the husband and wife are situated beside one another on the love seat opposite the visitor. He swallows thickly as he feels the atmosphere shift around him, the situation changing to parallel that of a teacher firing questions at a student about the previous night's readings.

As Mrs. Isles inquires eagerly and desperately about her daughter and her whereabouts and her condition and every detail she can possibly think of to bring up in question, Frost keeps his clammy hands clasped as he tries to recall what Maura and Jane had told him to say.

They hadn't prepared him for all of these questions, though.  
Luckily, Frost had taken imaginative writing and theater in school.

"When was it you met Maura?" she asks as she settles into the love seat beside her husband, that little glimmer of hope returning to rest in her eyes.

"The other night—"

"You said you were coming into town for business?" Mr. Isles interrupts.

Frost inhales deeply, his chest visibly rising. "Yes." He drops his eyes to the floor and attempts to relax, but such seems relatively impossible. Clearing his throat, he replies in a bit of a more confident tone, "The family that I work for sent me in from Springfield to deal with a few matters—"

"Springfield?" He raises his gaze in time to see Mrs. Isles' features lighten with juvenile glee. "You're from Springfield?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well that's simply marvelous, isn't it, Richard?" She shares a smile with her husband before turning back to Frost. "Some of our closest friends are from there. Oh, they're absolutely delightful. The Krueger's, perhaps you know them?"

Frost feigns an apologetic smile, a slight shake of the head. "The name only sounds faintly familiar. They don't have a son named Freddy, do they?"

"A Freddy Krueger? No… they only have two lovely daughters."

"Ah," he settles with a light nod, smothering an internal laugh to himself, "must be someone else I'm thinking of."

Mrs. Isles merely nods in understanding. "Yes," she agrees in mild disappointment, "though perhaps he's a cousin?"

Frost smiles. "Yes, perhaps a cousin."

The conversation lags for a few dry minutes, the warm, humid air given the opportunity to lie itself upon their skin as the questions take an impromptu pause. Nervous, yet friendly, glances are shared amongst the three.

The elegant woman delicately tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, adorned with a light-catching, dangly earring, the kind that Frost has only seen his mother pull out of her jewelry box for the most prestigious of occasions. Under Frost's enthralled stare, she bows her head with a flush upon her cheeks, ruffling the skirts of her light summer dress.

Readjusting the glasses upon his brow, Mr. Isles clears his throat, the sudden sound crashing through the sound barrier that had settled over the room. "So, Mr. Frost," he begins with a crack in his tone, "where exactly did you run into Maura?"

The questions begin again.

"On the outskirts of town two nights ago. I was heading in bound; they were heading outbound." The teenager clears his throat, nervously, as he lowers his head. "I was a bit… lost and disoriented, and your daughter kindly stopped to come to my aid. Two nice fellows, they are. We even shared a meal that night."

He raises his gaze to find Maura's mother staring at him with a look of slight bewilderment resting naturally upon her forehead. "Excuse my intrusion, Mr. Frost," she apologizes ahead of time, "but our daughter left so suddenly and without so much as an explanation, let alone a goodbye. Her traveling companion, though…" she pauses, hesitant, as though she herself is uncertain as to whether or not she wishes to hear the answer to her following question. "Did you happen to catch the name of the person with whom she was traveling?"

Taking a deep breath, the darker man sits up a tad straighter as he catches himself in a slouched position. Breathing out, he replies with a firm nod, "I did, yes. She was quite a charming woman as well, I must say. Both of them were. But the other one claimed herself to be Jane, a Ms. Jane Rizzoli. Is she someone you're familiar with?"

A hint of displeasure quickly flashes across the parents' faces, passing so quickly one would usually not take note to it, but Frost catches it. He doesn't question it, though. He knows enough back-story to understand the displeasure the parents seem to associate with the name _Jane_.

"Ms. Rizzoli," the mother says with a clear change in her tone and mood, "was a close… _companion_ of Maura's. Or rather she _is_ a close companion of Maura's, I suppose." Not offering anymore, she averts her eyes and stands from the love seat, appearing rather uncomfortable. "Well," she says with a spared glance toward the window, her eyes easily noting the time. "Mr. Frost, it would be a delight if you would stay for supper? You have already come so far out of your way, and simply in sake of our daughter. Sending you off so soon and empty-handed doesn't feel right."

Stealing a glance over his shoulder and out the window, Frost nods simply, turning back. "Dinner sounds lovely, Mrs. Isles, thank you."

* * *

"Oh, no, Maura is still a student," Mrs. Isles says in response to Frost as she walks to the entrance of the dining room. "James!" She tilts her head up toward the second floor of the house, voice raised. "James, dinner is ready! And we have a guest!" Turning back to the table, she takes her seat at the one end of table, across from her husband, and continues her conversation as though she hadn't interrupted herself, "I don't believe she's ever showed any interest in following the notion of becoming an apprentice or taking up a profession. At least not anytime soon."

"Especially not for my profession," Mr. Isles adds on with a light laugh.

"And what is it you do, Mr. Isles?"

The middle-aged man fluffs his napkin and lays it on his lap. "I'm an accountant. A pretty damn good one, if I do say so myself. Pays a pretty penny, too."

"But the job has never sparked a bit of interest in Maura," the mother says with a hint of disappointment hiding in her tone, a faint sigh following close behind. "She's always seemed to fancy the idea of all play and no work, if that makes any bout of sense, Mr. Frost. Maura's a dreamer, nothing but quite a foolish dreamer, always conjuring up the most ridiculous of fantasies. Even now, that's what she's doing. She's still running around trying to live a dream—"

"But some dreams come true," Frost replies softly, though his words hold more meaning than any clueless bystander would pick up on.

Mr. and Mrs. Isles both understand, though; they catch the meaning with absolute ease. They know which dream their visitor is referencing, referencing the dream as though he's known their daughter for far longer than a few meaningless hours in one day.

This dream, however, perhaps is one that might be blatantly obvious to any other travelers who might cross paths with Maura and Jane.

Perhaps complete strangers can sense the tension in the air, the surprising passion that seems to connect these two women in an unexplainable manner.

Perhaps anyone is able to understand the situation as though it is laid out in front of them, illustrated with children's pictures and explained in ordinary words.

Perhaps this dream, this impossible, ridiculous dream that has somehow manifested and become a strange reality between these two women is truly no secret.

Mrs. Isles only hopes it isn't so clear to the naked eyes of every fool her daughter runs into along her way to wherever it is she is running for relief. "Perhaps," she speaks up in a bitter tone, "some dreams simply aren't supposed to _ever_ unfold in reality. Some dreams simply aren't… right for society—"

"_Barry_?"

The three look up with equal surprise as James enters the dining room, a look of utter confusion falling across his face.

A smile twitches uncertainly upon Frost's lips. He'd forgotten about James; he'd forgotten they've met; he'd forgotten James could mess up this entire meeting. However, he plays his role with a tilt of the head and a thick layer of curiosity painted over his tone, "Hello. James, isn't it? You must have overheard your mother and I at the door earlier, am I right?" He sends the young boy a quick wink that neither parent notices.

"Oh… right, yes," James blushes lightly, head bowed as he shuffles to the table and takes his seat across from Frost, avoiding eye contact with his parents. "I just wasn't sure if I had… heard your name properly."

"And it's _Mr. Barry_, James," Mrs. Isles corrects out of motherly instinct. "He's a guest, not one of your schoolmates."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Isles, Barry is fine, really," he assures with a smile.

After a few minutes of muffled chewing and polite smiles shared awkwardly across the plates of food, James asks bluntly, "So why are you here, Barry?"

"James! That's no way to speak to a guest—"

Frost cuts her off, "No, no, it's quite alright." He wipes his mouth first with the back of his hand and then with his napkin after receiving an odd glare from the head of the table. Clearing his throat, he continues, "I'm here, James, because I ran into your sister the other day as I was coming into town on business."

The young child nods lightly, staring at his food as he fools with it on his plate. He's not so hungry anymore, not with Frost in the room. It's just… well… having him here without Maura or Jane, it feels wrong.

Frighteningly wrong.

He swallows the sensation with a slobbering mouthful of food.

"Actually, Maura wanted, _wished_ for me to pass along the message that she's doing fine. Swell, is the way she phrased it, I believe," Frost says after swallowing his last mouthful of lightly buttered bread sometime later. The meal had progressed with little conversation, many stares and gentle, friendly smiles.

Looking to his side, he notes Mrs. Isles placing down her fork and dabbing her mouth with her napkin. He knows what must be going on behind those glossy eyes of hers, behind that heart-retching look of hope.

False, lost hope.

Sure, he's never been in such a situation; he's never known the love a mother feels for her child, and he never will, but he can imagine. He can imagine and place together the happenings in the Isles house the past few days simply from the details Maura and Jane had passed along from James before sending him here, here to this shattered, broken house.

Broken.

He can sense it in the same manner he can feel the unknowing lying across this family.

The uncertainty.

The _guilt_.

The deep, stabbing feel of absolute sorrowful guilt.

It's been eating away at Mrs. Isles these past few days, keeping her awake into the late hours of the night and straight through till morn. A plentiful of _if only_'s have filled her conscious mind, plaguing her every thought.

If only she had been more accepting of her daughter and whatever the relationship is she holds so dear with Jane, _if only. _

But she couldn't. She still can't. It doesn't fit with what she knows, what she believes—what she's been _taught_ to believe. But perhaps she could have tried to ignore what was, what she had seen, what she knew. She could've attempted to tolerate it, pretend it wasn't there.

Pretend it's only a phase.  
A fling.

Perhaps then her daughter would still be here, if only stubborn and bitter toward her.  
She can handle bitter, if she were still here, simply hiding in the other room.

But she's not, she tells herself as she brings her eyes back to settle upon their visitor, more of a messenger than anything else.

"Mrs. Isles," he begins, connecting their eyes, his light brown irises boring directly into hers, so rich and brown, the same ones that have found their way down the family tree and straight to Jane. A chill rises on his neck at the eerie similarity, reality setting in on him at the dinner table in 1908.

He shakes it loose.

Sincerity and attempted sympathy in his eyes, Frost continues, "She wanted me to tell you, specifically, that this isn't your fault. It's no one's fault. She said it was time for her to leave, regardless of the circumstances." He clears his throat and takes a sip of the flat wine at his place. "And," he begins again, receiving three pairs of attentive eyes, "Maura wanted me to tell all of you that she loves you. Dearly. She really loves you."

The terribly out-of-place teenager lowers his head slightly, his eyes shifted and directed at his crumb-filled plate.

"She was being honest when she added that onto the message." A lopsided smile floats to adorn his lips. "I could tell, just by the way she said it."

* * *

He breathes out. Deeply. Heavily. The sound of his hard breathing is audible in the darkening light, the sun whisking away to make room for the coming night. Regaining grip on reality, he lowers himself down against the tree across from the water pump and bends his legs at the knee, resting his elbows on his thighs as he hangs his head in his hands.

"Holy…_ hell. _"

His heart tha-thumps deeply in his ears, the sound resonating with a force that causes his head to ache in response. The cool evening air chills his throat as his inhales and exhales enter and exit quickly from his chest. Coming slightly to, back down to earth, to reality, to 2008, he notices, with a stir, the hoarse, dead brown blades of grass beneath his feet. The shoes, though…

A humored laugh meets his ears, startling him at first before he recognizes it as his own. _Did that really happen? _He wonders, stupefied as he glances up at the canopy of great oak leaves hanging a good distance above his head.

His smile grows.

That tree had been there, he notes. It was a tad smaller, a little younger, but it had been there, right in the Isles' backyard.

His mind races with the thought.

It's ridiculous.  
Mad freaking ridiculous.  
He knows, but it happened.

Standing up and brushing off the bits of flaking grass from his trousers, he steps and accidentally kicks an object he had dropped as he had collapsed against the tree only minutes before.

It's nothing extraordinary—a bag, a shoulder bag similar to what a traveler would lug around on a journey in a storybook adventure. It's tan in color and nearly busting at the seams due to its overload of contents, consisting mainly of clothes that Mrs. Isles argued her daughter will need somewhere along the line, regardless of where she is or where she is going.

She sent a little care-package, if you will, along with Frost because, "If anyone's going to run into my daughter again, you _are_ the highest bet, Mr. Frost. I hope you don't mind," she had said as she spent her time delicately folding a few dresses and various other articles of clothing before stacking them neatly in the bag she had extracted from the closet.

Frost had watched absentmindedly, following her motions and feeling a slight pang of sadness as the mother held the last dress close to her chest, hugging it in a way as though wishing it were her daughter rather than sewn cotton.

Her eyes had fallen shut for a lengthy moment as she held it close.

Knowing he'd be seeing Maura and Jane within the next day, dragging along this bag was the least of his worries. He had, however, promised Mrs. Isles he would keep his eyes open for her daughter as he continued along his own journey, as well as update her if he ever felt necessary to do so.

He had, after all, promised.

Slinging the bag and its numerous importance over his right shoulder, he turns and departs from the park, keeping to the modern, paved backstreets on his way home in order to avoid contact with anyone he might know from 2008 in the darkening night.

Delivering all this stuff off to Maura can wait.  
It's not as if she'll be going anywhere anytime soon.

* * *

The night grows thin, though the hours seem to grow unbearably longer as they progress. Dark is moving farther away, and light is coming closer, morning fast approaching to find Jane still wide awake in her bed, Maura fast asleep beside her, tucked soundly between her and the wall. Angela had set up an air mattress on the floor beside the bed, finished with blankets and pillows and all, but it has yet to be used by either woman. Maura wouldn't allow Jane to be that far away from her for the entire night. It was too far away, she had said with a little pout adorning her lips.

That pout, though, Jane had noticed, was only there to try and act as a mask, trying to shield the fear in her eyes, the scared uncertainty that seemed to permanently move into the soft creases that rested at the corners of Maura's eyes and around her cheeks.

So here she lies on their fourth night together, awake and restless as she catches the first hints of morning rising.

A bird releases a faint, distant chirp, his voice standing alone at first in the chill morning air before being joined by a chorus of others.

And night is lost.

She releases a sigh and rubs wearily at her eyes as she turns onto her side, coming to stare at Maura's peaceful, slumbering features. As tired as she is, an undeniable smile crawls to rest upon her lips in a light, satisfied smile, as always. Trying not to smile around Maura, she's found, is quite a difficult chore and near impossible to accomplish.

Letting her subconscious self take over her fatigued body, she finds her hand reaching across the short distance between their bodies. A hand she vaguely recognizes as her own traces a line down the side of the woman's face, coming to rest, palm flat and cradling her cheek within its curved fingers.

Fingers gently caress the soft skin, shyly, timidly running across the smooth surface and sending the texture through Jane's sensory nerves, the touch sending forth a rush of memories from a forgotten, dusty corner of her mind. _Hands, bare chests, fingers scampering wildly, skin—so much skin, pale, smooth skin. _

Moments pass in her flashing memories, finding her fingers inching their way into the mussed, slept-on mess of Maura's hair. They get caught in a mess of tangles and instinctively curl themselves around even more strands, gripping a little harder. Her eyes fall shut, and another memory flashes—_hands caught in these clumps of hair, pulling and holding on as they rolled together, their bodies molding and—_

She muffles a low groan into her bare upper arm, turning her head, eyes still closed.

A want, a _need_, tenses the muscles of her abdomen, burning.

She lets her hand go limp in Maura's hair and squeezes her eyes shut even farther, mouth still slammed against her toned bicep as she tries to kill the unwanted desire, but, in response, she only feels it intensifying, thickening, growing as her thoughts run amuck with images past and fantasies yet to come.

She stifles another moan, more a regretful groan than anything else, as she feels a foot creeping between her legs, wandering toes sliding suggestively up her hairless calf.

_Oh god. _

A hand with curious fingers scampers across her hairline and meets the corner of her mouth with a pinky finger that barely finds its way between her lips, slowly dragging her mouth away from the safety of her own arm. Eyes still closed, her head follows the guiding hand, moving as it moves and pausing as it stops and disappears from her skin for a short moment before a pair of soft lips crashes soundly against hers.

For a minute, all is good.  
Everything is at peace.

Hands find their way to each other, legs mindlessly and slowly intertwining as their lips hang together.

As a shot of arousal hits her abdomen with a sharp tensing of the muscles, her eyes pop open to find Maura's face backing slowly away, eyes open, a light smirk playing on her slick lips. "Well, good morning, Ms. Rizzoli," she says with a hint of morning grogginess residing low in her tone. She pulls her smirk back into a smile, teeth sneaking through the growing gap between her lips.

Jane tries on a smile of her own. "Morning."

"Sleep well?"

She groans, for more than one reason. "I haven't slept _yet_," she replies with a yawn, her hand running absentmindedly along Maura's side, the t-shirt she had lent to Maura bunched up to her ribs as her fingers gently caress the bare skin. "I've been too… paranoid about how to tell Mom about…" Her eyes shift. "You." She releases a sigh as Maura listens, eyes running around her love's weary features. "I just need to get my mind off of telling her," she says as she lets her eyes fall shut again.

Maura runs her hand up Jane's neck, brushing a couple brown locks behind her shoulder before allowing her fingers to caress Jane's relaxing face. "Need to get your mind off of things, huh, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks softly, outlining Jane's brow with her playful fingers, scampering down the nose and then settling for exploration across the luscious lips lying beneath their gentle pads.

"Yeah." The word vibrates against Maura's fingers, the lips quivering in resistance at first and then curling into a faint smile.

She laughs quietly in response, her pointer finger following the curve of Jane's lower lip. "Ms. Rizzoli," she says again softly, admiring the ring of saying the name and preferring its quality and age to simply _Jane. _She loves both names, though. However formal the surname might feel to Jane, the two are interchangeable to Maura's ears and mind, synonymous.

After a silent moment elapses, she continues quietly, "I know something that could… _relieve_ your mind of its worry, at least for a little while." A mad blush fills her cheeks entirely, turning them shades darker, but it passes unnoticed by Jane, whose eyes are still closed under Maura's gentle touch.

"You do?" She inquires, smiling beneath Maura's fingers.

"Mhm… do you have the slightest clue as to what?" Maura asks with a nervous shake hiding in her voice.

"What? A kiss?" Jane guesses with a little grin, the vibration of a laugh tickling her lips. "Or…?"

Maura rolls her lips between her teeth, holding back the words she wishes to say for another minute as she soaks in the moment and releases the nerves she has been holding onto. She's had a dream like this, a fantasy, rather. Of course, none of her dreams have ever taken place in the future—or, the present, she supposes she should refer to it now.

The present.

100 years have passed, but she's skipped them all. Did she skip out on life? No, she knows the answer instinctively, her finger running mindlessly along the soft surface of her companion's lip. She hasn't really skipped _out_ on anything, only skipped to something—someone—better.

_Jane_, the name rings in her mind as a smile conquers her lips. All of this, everything that has happened in the past several months is for love. Is she crazy, then? Are they acting rash? _Mother would say so_, she knows. She would say to relax and breathe rather than jumping to conclusions and running around like headless chickens. _Let time figure it out for you_, she'd probably say.

But time is working against them, trying to pull them father apart, attempting to keep them separated. Time is surely not in their favor in this journey.

As time is not in her favor this moment, she realizes as she's dwelling in the past and her thoughts, wasting time. There's so much she can be doing now, away from her thoughts, away from the worries of time.

Diving back into the present, a hot blush creeps up the back of her neck in embarrassment, but a bout of adrenaline counteracts it and courses through her veins.

She knows what she wants to say.  
She knows what she wants to _do_.

Ignoring the inevitable feel of humiliation, she says in a soft, delicate tone, "You haven't loved me for 100 years, Ms. Rizzoli."

The lids of Jane's eyes slowly flutter open, allowing their dark irises to meet in the brightening dim haze of the approaching morning. A ray of sun creeps its way in through the window shade, its light hanging in the air above the two women as they stare at each other, conversing in a wordless language. Eyes stay connected. A little thing called lust flares in one set of irises and is mirrored in the other.

Whether the following movements occur slowly or quickly, neither girl can accurately tell. A collision of parted lips initiates far more than a simple kiss. With it comes excitement and passion, curiosity and desire, want and need.

Lips meet and mingle, depart, and then meet again within seconds as hands grip desperately at skin, longing touch and attention. Clothing is thrown aside, discarded, as the explorations begin—or more so, as the reunion begins. Places that haven't been acknowledge the past few days are given the utmost attention once more as eager hands travel across bare skin, feeling what they've previously been deprived of touching.

Fingers trace invisible works of art upon warming, fidgeting canvases.

Muscles clench and flex intermittently, quivering beneath certain gentle touches.

Bodies begin to mold with one another, moving in a matched rhythm. A pleased smile dances across Maura's lips as she clings to the woman beside her, enjoying the aid of the time, the chance of satisfaction.

Arousal courses through Maura's system, circling her abdomen and lower as her eyes fall shut. Her body naturally moves to match the rhythmic movement of Jane's, rocking together in a beautiful collision.

Limbs tangle and untangle.

Bed sheets, thin and soft from over washing, find their way between sliding legs, kicking feet, and curling toes.

Despite the hint of coolness that hangs in the early morning air, a sweat breaks out upon both of them, rising to glisten across their skin.

Hearts beat as needed, racing and slowing, racing and slowing, speeding with bouts of excitement. Breathing turns shallow, lost in the mix of lips and soft, gentle moans that fall at random from their open jaws.

Maura draws Jane closer, tugging with a hand on the back of the neck. She crashes her lips soundly against Jane's, lips embracing in a tender kiss that stands out among the hectic, intertwined mess of arms, legs, and bodies. Amidst the raging nerves, she finds sanctuary within Jane's arms, feeling those strong hands cradling her back with their rough, calloused fingers. In the fast approaching morning, she finds haven in Jane's lips, stretching her neck and twisting her head to assure they won't be torn apart. She finds peace in the movement of their bodies with one another and the way Jane guides her with a palm flat against the small of her back.

Heat rises.

Sweat pulsates through pores.

Sweet little moans of satisfaction fall from parted lips and meet ears with a sound of faint surprise.

Hands clinging to skin, heads tilted back, their much-awaited climaxes greet them as the sun rises and shines brightly through the drawn window shade, lighting the couple's way into the morning.

* * *

Seven o'clock passes on Jane's alarm clock beside the head of the bed, finding the two still in bed, basking pleasurably in the afterglow of their morning communion. Maura is seated and leaning against the wall, one leg outstretched with its foot dangling off the side of the bed and one leg in a bent position with the blankets drawn across her lap and up over her chest, making a sort of hammock where Jane is currently resting her head.

A smile adorns Maura's lips as she looks down at Jane's soft features, admiration filling her eyes. She mindlessly massages the brown locked girl's scalp as her other hand draws a line down the center of Jane's toned abdomen. "You know what you should do?" she asks, their conversation composed solely of shy whispers in the morning air.

"Hmm?" Jane questions, her eyes closed as she shifts on the bed, letting her head remain in Maura's lap.

"Write her a letter."

She resettles against the mattress and Maura's legs. "A letter?"

Maura smiles gently as her hand wanders across Jane's shoulders. "Why not? Writing letters seems to be a tradition in our family," she ends with a breathy laugh. Jane spares a laugh as well, but it's cut short by a large, audible yawn. A frown tugs at Maura's lips, remembering that Jane said she still has yet to sleep. She can't help but feel guilty for keeping her up. She corrects herself and ceases the nonsense movements of her hands.

Jane's eyes blink open with slight bewilderment. "What's wrong?" she asks, never breaking a whisper.

"I'm sorry." An apologetic look sweeps across her face. "I'm keeping you up while you should be trying to sleep." She draws her hands away from Jane's body altogether, letting them rest limp on the bed.

"No, no, no sorry," Jane mumbles tiredly, a goofy grin on her lips as she blindly reaches for one of Maura's hands.

"But you should sleep."

The tired woman's smile grows as she successfully finds one of Maura's hands and drags it back toward her, leaving it limp against her bare chest. She replies in a tired mumble, "And you're helping me get to sleep."

With a light smile returning to her face, Maura agrees with a nod. "Okay," she says and leans over far enough to place her lips to Jane's forehead in a chaste kiss. "Now don't worry about the letter or your mother or any of that. Just sleep, Jane."

Jane's eyes fall shut as she yawns once more, and she relaxes beneath Maura's mindless caresses, feeling slumber within reach.

* * *

Maura backs out of _their_ bedroom later that morning. She has taken to calling it "their" bedroom instead of only "Jane's," since, well, it's partly hers now, too. It feels so strange to think about it; she still hasn't come to terms with any of this, the future, her new home. Calling it home sounds strange, as though she's turning her back on her actual home in 1908. But she'll have to learn to accept this as her new home, among other things.

She doesn't expect the acceptance to come anytime soon.  
The adjustment period, she expects, will last a long while.

Backing out of their bedroom later that morning, she slowly pulls the door shut, trying to be as quiet as possible as she inches the door into its latch before releasing the knob. As it comes to rest, she exhales the breath she was holding and straightens up, ready to—

"Good morning, Maura."

She jumps as the feminine voice catches her off guard and turns to find Angela leaving her own bedroom across the hall, a basket full of laundry trapped between her hip and her arm.

She sends her a friendly, somehow motherly smile. "Sleep well, honey?"

"Yes, I did, thank you," she replies in a jumbled mess as a blush flares upon her cheeks. She notices Angela's gaze drop to inspect what she's wearing. Her own eyes widen; she'd forgotten she's only wearing one of Jane's huge t-shirts and nothing else. Her cheeks brighten even more, and she bends her posture while trying to make the shirt a little longer. "Um, you weren't planning on using the shower right now, were you, Mrs. Rizzoli?" She avoids her gaze, wishing she had thought to put on some pants or something more before leaving their room. But no, the thought hadn't crossed her mind.

Angela offers another smile. "Nope, bathroom's all yours, Maura."

The embarrassed teenager smiles in response and mumbles an indecipherable mix of "okay, thanks" before scrambling off to the bathroom.

Watching Maura run off, Angela shakes her head in good humor. She's been acting so nervous around her, acting as though she'll tear her to pieces if she says something wrong, something out of place. How much she could say wrong, she doesn't know. None of Jane's friends have ever acted this scared around her. She hopes she'll warm up to her soon; she doesn't want an encounter like this every morning.

Especially not like this one.

She recognized that shirt Maura was wearing. She knows it's her daughter's, which is fine—in normal circumstances. Seeing Maura waltzing out of her daughter's room in the morning, clad in _only_ the shirt …

"That's going to take some getting used to," she says, exhaling a wave of nerves before she starts down the stairs.

* * *

The following night, on the last day of the week, also the last day of the week Angela has given Jane to tell her about _everything_, Angela enters her room. The night is coming to a close; she sent Frankie off to bed hours ago, and Maura and Jane are off in their room doing God knows what. Talking and then sleeping, _separately_, she hopes. Though she knows quite well that the air mattress has yet to be touched by either girl.

Coming to her bed, prepared for a night of undisturbed rest, she finds an envelope perched upon her pillow. Its white color stands out from that of her olive green pillowcase. Walking closer to the bed, she finds her name scribbled across the front of the envelope in her daughter's unique hand.

Curious, she picks it up and opens the un-licked flap, the glue having never been touched, and pulls out a folded stack of papers.

Two pieces of paper folded in threes and filled with pen on both sides, she notices, surprised to find so much. She hadn't been expecting such a lengthy explanation. At the most she thought she'd get a note saying: Maura's a runaway; she has abusive, neglectful parents. Can she stay with us?

That is what she expected.

Not this, a formal letter that looks as though it could be the most handwritten work her daughter has done in the last year of school.

Surprised and still overly curious, she unfolds the letter and takes a seat on the edge of her bed, throwing the envelope to the side as she lets her eyes fall upon the letter in her hands.  
_  
Ma,_

I hope you're sitting as you read this because it might be a surprise, to say the least. If you're not sitting already, then, well, sit. Please. Okay, so I have no idea how to even begin explaining this. The beginning I guess? But you have to promise to continue reading this letter even if it begins to sound like fiction. I know it sounds fake, which is why I can't imagine trying to tell you all of us out loud. It's just so crazy. You won't believe any of it at first. I know you won't. So just… try to believe me, okay? I'm not lying here. I'm really not. And when this is all done, you can even ask Grandpa for a backup story. I know that doesn't make sense right now. But just try to believe me, believe this.

So a few months ago, back in early spring, you remember that one night when I came in the house in the middle of the night? You never really asked me what happened, why I wasn't coming home until 5am. But I'm glad you didn't question me because I really had no idea what happened either. Ma, that afternoon, before I came home so late, I… went back in time. I know, I know. It's crazy! But I swear I'm telling you the honest truth. There's this old water pump in the park. It's broken, I know because I tried the handle. That's how it happened. I jiggled the handle and ended up in Maura's backyard in

_**1908**__. Nineteen-oh-eight, Ma, I'm dead serious. I didn't believe it myself. I thought it was a dream, a nightmare even._

Maura was yelling at me to get off her lawn and then insisting that I had an injury to the head since I wouldn't believe her. It was insane, Ma. I got there, and my cell phone wouldn't work. It wouldn't even turn on. And they were dressed up in everyday life. I was the odd one out in my "atrocious" attire, as Maura called it. James called it atrocious, too, on many occasions. James is Maura's brother, just eight-years-old right now.

They're Maura and James Isles, Ma.  
Isles. Yes, the same Isles.

Of course, when Maura introduced herself as Maura Isles it didn't mean a thing to me. Even when I met her parents, Richard and Constance, it didn't mean a thing. Well, I didn't exactly "meet" them. I was spoken of while I listened from the hallway. Maura's parents aren't huge fans of me, or my clothing, more so. But they're definitely not fond of me. And the first time they met me I was just a stranger and then a friend, but then I became… well, now I can see why they don't particularly like me.

Oh god, this is a long story, Ma. I could explain everything that's happened over the past few months in great detail, but that could take up a lot of paper. So a summary might be best, I guess. So…

* * *

**Hope you all liked this chapter. How do you think Angela will react to the letter? Please leave a review or comment and let me know what you think. **


	29. Chapter 29

**I love this chapter so much. I think this is one of my favorite chapters. ENJOY!**

* * *

**Chapter 29: A Fresh Start **

_So to make things short, Ma, Maura and I, we're kind of… girlfriends? _

The word is written lightly, and it is clear it has been erased and rewritten several times. The paper is rough and thin in that area, Angela notices as she runs her fingers across the word.  
_  
I guess. I don't know. Maybe you already figured that much out. I know, I know, you'll say, "But she's family!" Well, not exactly. She was adopted, remember? Anyway… I love her. I really do, Ma, and she loves me, too. And I guess that's where the trouble began. Her parents have been trying to wed her off, and she doesn't even like those guys they bring home as potential husbands. And the reason as to why she's here, now, in 2008 instead of 1908 is because we were caught a few days ago. Her mother found us, and she flipped and… the outcome wasn't good, so I did what the journal said to do._

Oh, right, I didn't mention the journal yet. James started keeping a journal when he was almost nine, summing up a lot of the encounters we've had, and including stuff that hasn't even happened yet—for us, at least. James gave this journal and some pictures and other random stuff to Grandpa and told him to give it to me this summer, _**specifically**__. It's so weird, isn't it? I almost feel like everything's already set and we're just living it, since it is already written down in those journals._

This is all so confusing to sum up, especially in a letter. I don't know if there are any blanks left, I mean, I know there are some blanks, but the big stuff. I don't know. It makes sense to me. So basically I… time traveled. No. That sounds really weird. Time traveled? Whatever. I went back in time and met Maura and we're together and now we're here, in 2008, and she's supposed to stay here. She can't go back for so many reasons. I know you're going to say she should go home, but she can't.

The journal says she doesn't. If she's not meant to return home, then she can't. Frost can tell you why—he's so freaked out that we're going to screw up the space-time-continuum or whatever. He thinks that we're going to do something wrong and suddenly the whole world will change. But maybe he's right, maybe there is that risk. And Ma, if there's a risk, then Maura needs to stay here. It's where she's supposed to be. You can ask Grandpa or read the journals if you don't believe me.

I know this is a ton of crazy talk, I'm sure. You're probably sitting there with your jaw dropped as you read this. But, please, Ma, try to believe it. And please let Maura stay here. She is family, after all, ha ha. I swear I'm not making this up, Ma. You know I don't have enough creativity to come up with something as complex as this. Maura's not some random runaway that I'm just trying to take in. She's… well… you know now, I guess. And she's… she's important to me, Ma. She's very important to me.

Okay, I guess that sums it up enough. I hope.  
-Jane

Angela's hands tremble as she finishes the last line of the letter. The papers shake in her hand, and she wipes her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. Her thoughts run amuck with the new information, and she sends her skeptic instincts to the curb as she embraces the insanity that she has no choice other than to believe.

It all sounds insane, she knows, and usually her sound mind would lead her down the lane of skepticism. But, there's a little voice of reason dragging her back and shedding light upon all of her questions.

A memory.

A few too many coincidences.

More than enough for her to simply brush the insanity off her shoulder and argue with her daughter for a _real_ explanation.

Sweeping the back of her hand beneath her nose, she sniffles and lays the letter aside, leaving it unfolded on her pillow as she leaves her room, walks across the hall and into her daughter's room without offering a knock.

Jane and Maura are speaking in hushed voices on the bed, but Angela doesn't bother to excuse herself before she breaks in and wraps her arms tightly around Maura.

She holds onto her tightly and hugs her like a child, burying her face in her shoulder while she attempts to hold back her sappy tears. She resists at first, only out of confusion, but after a moment she wraps her arms around Angela's back and clings to her like a young girl hugging her mommy, never wanting to let go.

But Angela, she realizes, is her mother now.  
She's the closest thing she has starting right now.  
She's the closest thing she will ever be granted.

She tightens her arms around her and buries her face in her hair.

"I'm so sorry, honey," Angela whispers lightly. "I'm so sorry for everything."

_It's okay, I'm fine_, she begins to reply, but stops as she feels the air catch in her throat. She holds the words inside instead and resituates her head upon her shoulder, refusing to release the hug.

Jane watches from the side with her arms crossed against her chest, her brow creasing in slight confusion. But once her mother releases Maura to arm's length, smiles, and says one sentence, she understands immediately.

"Welcome home, Maura Dorthea," she whispers.

_She read the letter._

* * *

"So all this time…" Angela wonders aloud with a twinkle in her eye as she places the coffee pot back into its spot on the maker. Picking up the mug between her hands and bringing it to her lips, she blows gently across the steaming liquid and turns around to face the two women seated at the kitchen table. She smiles lightly. "I wish you would've told me sooner."

Jane snorts and scratches her cheek. "Like you would've accepted it just like that?" She snaps her fingers, smirking.

The mother bows her head, nodding in understanding. "Okay, but still… a hint or two would've been nice."

"Well, I think it's been very clear I'm not quite from around here, Mo—_Angela_," Maura settles, not yet ready to try on the "mom" word for size.

"I figured you were a gentlewoman," she says with a shrug, taking a cautious sip of her decaf coffee. "A quirky gentlewoman, but it was refreshing to see a young woman with manners." She glances away and sets her eyes on an unfocused spot on the ground, staring blankly for a few minutes before smiling to herself. "You know, I probably should've known better."

"What do you mean?" Jane rubs her tired eyes and attempts to smother a yawn.

Her mother smiles and brings the mug to her lips once more, but stops before she can take a sip. "There were stories, way back when…" she revels in her own memories, still smiling pleasantly to herself. Looking up and meeting the girls' confused faces, she continues, "Grandpa, my grandfather, James, used to tell me these… these stories, or, well, I thought they were stories anyway."

"James told you stories?" Maura questions and leans slightly forward in her chair, eyes curious. "About what?"

She sips thoughtfully and then laughs silently, bringing her eyes to Maura's. "About you," she answers, "and Jane."

Jane's hand stops halfway down her face, fingers on her cheeks, palm curved atop her nose. Her eyes open wide. "Wait," she says, her fatigue fleeting momentarily, "you knew about this? About us?"

"Oh, gosh, no," she admitted, shaking her head in what appears to be thankfulness. "I didn't know about you or your relationship or… well, not per se. I knew your names and," she pauses as though remembering and laughs softly before continuing, "James fibbed some of the stories for my sake and amusement, of course. They weren't all true, but he definitely kept the characters true to their name." She stares between the two for a moment and then lowers her mug. "And if I remember correctly, he described you two almost perfectly."

Maura lowers her head, hiding a bashful smile. "James would," she mumbles in a soft-spoken voice. "James has always had a good eye."

"Has he?" Angela asks, curiosity coating her tone. "I didn't get a chance to get to know him too well. He passed—" she cuts herself off.

"When?" Maura snaps her head up. "He's not young when he… when he passes, tell me he isn't."

"He's seventy when he…" Angela doesn't finish her sentence, but the rest of it is well understood. She sets her mug on the counter as she watches Maura lower her head once again, her light hair falling around her face in a dividing curtain. A pang of guilt pulls at her chest. "Don't worry, hon, he… he lived a good life." She offers a warm smile as Maura raises her head.

A heavy, fatigued silence falls upon the three in the following minutes, and each takes to her thoughts, staring off into the vague distance.

After a moment alone with themselves, Angela speaks and breaks the calm, "You know, Jane, that's where I got your name, ironically."

The daughter looks up, her brow creased for further explanation.

"From the stories," the mother continues with a breathy chuckle. "When I was young, probably no older than six, I always told my grandpa, James, that when I grew up, I'd name my first daughter Jane, just like the strong lead character in all his great tales. And to honor him. You know 'James', 'Jane'. Very similar" She shakes her head and retrieves her mug from the counter, taking a quick sip of the now lukewarm coffee. "I guess now I understand why James and my father used to laugh so much whenever I'd say that…" She trails off and smiles, glancing up to meet her daughter's eyes. "They knew all along I would name you Jane; it was almost written to be before I was even born."

An exhausted laugh escapes from Maura, drawing attention toward her as she lightly ducks her head.

"What?"

"So really," Maura begins, laughter quivering her tone, "you were named after yourself."

Both the mother and daughter are not able to resist a good-humored smirk.

* * *

"God, how much did your ma pack for you?" Jane asks as she widens the top of the tan, overstuffed shoulder bag sitting on her bed, the one that Mrs. Isles had sent home with Frost for Maura. Frost had dropped it off earlier that morning and briefly recounted the events. Brevity was hard to avoid, though; he was still awestricken by the entire journey.

"I mean, really," the teenager with brown locks laughs as she pulls out one of the items and shows it to Maura. "Was _this_ really necessary?"

"It's my toque hat," the other girl rebuts, slight offense hiding in her tone, and snatches the item from Jane's hands, bringing it in toward her chest. She stares at it with momentary nostalgia, smiling. "It's my best toque hat, actually, Ms. Rizzoli."

Jane laughs once again and returns her attention back to the still very full bag. It's amazing how much that woman was able to fit in there. It's evident she folded and refolded, stacked and restacked until everything was so-so. She smirks as she pulls out a few folded pairs of Maura's undergarments. "Now see," she says as she sets the folded stack aside, "some of this stuff is useful, but a toque hat?" The girl shakes her head. "I'm afraid you won't be using that very often in the near future."

"You mean to tell me not a single woman in 2008 fancies sporting a toque hat from time to time?"

She watches Jane's back, her response starting with a silent shaking of the shoulders. Laughter, of course. Maura grits her jaw, but smothers a smile of her own. After all, she knows fashion has changed far too much in the past century, and she's not so certain it has changed for the better.

"No woman that I know, Ms. Isles," Jane replies after a moment, keeping her back turned as she continues rummaging through the bag.

"Well," Maura says in a curt voice after a moment, walking up behind the brown locked woman. "I suppose that figure is soon to change, now isn't it, Ms. Rizzoli?" She raises her tone in question and waits until Jane turns around, a smile gracing her lips as she waits.

Jane turns hesitantly, but she stops as she turns around completely and simultaneously loses the ability to keep her jaw in a closed position. It hangs as she stares at the woman before her, who bows her head shyly and hides beneath the sleek toque hat perched atop her slightly fluffed hair. A blush works its way to scatter naturally across her pale cheeks. Jane smiles lightly. "I suppose you're right about that, huh?"

Slowly raising her head, Maura meets Jane's eyes and smiles gently. "Do you mind if I wear it?" she asks, glancing away nervously like a child asking her mother for permission to stay out past ten.

"Do I mind?" Jane laughs and nudges Maura's chin with the knuckle of her index finger. "It's your hat, not mine. I don't think I get much say."

"I know, but… still," Maura trails off and averts her gaze once again. "I want to fit in here."

"Fit in?"

"It's been one-hundred years," she raises her voice as her jaw noticeably tightens in determination, "I'd rather not be the… the _queer girl_ in two different centuries if I can avoid it, Ms. Rizzoli!"

_It's her chance to start fresh_, Jane realizes after a minute of tense, fallen silence, breaking her eyes away from Maura's as she nods in understanding. "Okay," she agrees and places her hands lightly on the other girl's waist and rubs her thumbs absentmindedly across the top of her hipbones. "And you won't be."

"Oh, damn it, I will be, won't I?" she questions, a wail in her voice as she goes to knock the hat off her head and send it flying to the floor to, hopefully, remain unused.

But, Jane stops the motion and grabs her wrist in midflight. "No," she settles plainly, yet confidently.

Maura lets her hand go limp in Jane's grip, and she looks away, her features sinking. "You're just saying that…"

"No, I'm not," Jane insists and releases Maura's wrist.

Her arm falls to her side.  
She keeps her head bowed, eyes turned away.

"Maura, I… it's different now," Jane continues after a moment. Her tone is softer, quieter than before. "I know I can't promise it'll be perfect, but it'll be different. You have to believe me there." She goes to cup Maura's chin with her hand, but Maura shies away from the touch. "Come on, Maur… don't you remember all those people at the mall? You thought they had war paints smeared across their eyes and skin. They were weird, you said so yourself." Noticing a smile tug at the corner of Maura's lips, she tries again and succeeds at nudging her chin until their eyes are forced to meet by close proximity. "And you in a toque hat?" she asks, lips pulling into a smirk. She shrugs. "Sure, you'll get a couple stares, but I don't think they'll be staring at you because you look _weird_."

Maura bats her eyelids and lowers her head slightly, another blush rising to flare across her cheeks. "Then why will they be staring?" she asks, false naivety coating her voice.

The smirk on Jane's lips transforms into a smile as she releases a breathy laugh between her teeth and steals a glance up at the toque hat resting atop Maura's head. She returns her gaze back to Maura's and admits, "Probably the same reason I keep staring."

"Oh?" Maura smothers a smirk and parts her lips to form a gentle _o_. "And why's that?"

Jane shakes her head and resists the urge to fill the gap between her love's lips, ducking her head slightly as she wraps her arms around Maura's waist instead and draws their bodies a little closer together. "I think you know the reason perfectly well, Ms. Isles."

"Do I?"

Jane smirks again and steals Maura's lips in a kiss that she cuts short—far too short. "Yes," she says as she forces her lips away, but lingers nearby, "you do." She presses their lips together one more time, for clarification.

Maura smiles, as they break apart. "Oh, _that_ reason."

They break apart a minute later as the floorboards creak beneath the carpet outside of the bedroom door. It was probably only Angela, but the two step apart, regardless, and share a friendly, secretive smile as they turn their attention to the open bag on the bed, still half-full with items.

Maura reaches in and pulls out a small pile of neatly folded dresses. She looks through them and places them on Jane's bed, smiling lightly. After a moment's thought, she removes the toque hat from her head and situates it atop the pile of folded clothes, all items of the twentieth century clumped together.

She stares at the items from her home laid out across Jane's bed and can't help but smile. For some odd reason, the items don't appear as foreign as she expected them to, and, she realizes with a change of heart, she doesn't feel so foreign either.

Surprisingly, she feels oddly at home.

* * *

_She's identical to all the pictures_, Jane's grandfather notes as he opens the door and moves to the side to allow them in, his eyes set upon Maura with a familiar gaze, one that holds anything but that look of laying eyes on a stranger for the first time. He watches as the young woman enters his home and attempts to slouch her posture to imitate that of Jane's. The grandfather smiles and shakes his head as he closes the door behind them. "Well, I suppose a welcome home, Maura Dorthea, is in order?" he greets with a kind grin and extends his hand.

Maura shakes it lightly, obviously afraid of the man's old age and frail appearance. "Thank you," she replies in a soft, reserved tone. She's hesitant and draws her hand away shyly, rubbing her elbows out of uncertainty.

Jane clears her throat after a moment of strained silence. "Um, Grandma, on the phone you mentioned you wanted to show something to us? A plant or something?"

The grandmother straightens up and smiles in remembrance. "Oh, yes, yes, right," she agrees and begins heading through the kitchen doorway. "Angela, honey, you'll simply love these seeds I found the other week," she continues, her voice drifting as Jane ushers her mother and brother out of the living room, leaving Maura and her grandfather alone.

Watching the kitchen door swing shut to its natural position behind Jane, Maura looks away and takes a deep breath. Her eyes settle upon the grandfather, who gingerly lowers himself into a red recliner situated at an angle beside a ratty old couch. The older man catches her gaze and smiles, motioning for her to take a seat.

She complies and sets herself on the seat cushion closest to the old man.

"So, Maura Dorthea—"

"Maura," she corrects, blushing at her own rudeness. "Please, I insist."

The grandfather smiles, his lips rounding around his pearly white dentures. "Okay, Maura, tell me, how are you adjusting?"

"Um," she pauses and glances at her lap, taking a moment to pull at the new skinny jeans wrapped around her slender thighs. Angela had taken her on a "shopping spree," as she had called it, a few days before. The new clothes, though, are taking a bit longer of an adjustment period than she had expected. The clothes are just so… itchy. Surprisingly, she would have rather stuck to dresses, but Jane insisted that she try wearing "jeans", as Jane had called them. Smoothing the denim, she continues, "I'm adjusting as quickly as I can." She offers a shrug. "It's easier some days than others."

"Mm," the older man hums and nods in understanding, lightly rocking the recliner chair back and forth. "And you've been here how long now?"

"One month, two weeks, and four days."

The grandfather laughs wholeheartedly. "Not that you're counting or anything," he replies, the wrinkles across his face more defined in his laughter.

The younger woman spares a gentle laugh as well and uncrosses her legs only to cross them again a moment later. "It's a date I'll always remember, I guess."

"Of course, of course." The grandfather coughs lightly as silence falls upon the two once more. "So, you've started school here now, yes? Angela told me about the trouble with getting you into the right classes without a previous report card or school records or anything."

"Mhm…"

"How is school?" he asks for lack of better conversation. He frowns at the rigidness of their conversation. Their meeting shouldn't be this strained. He feels as though he's conducting an interview with a timid high school student.

Maura shifts on the couch and straightens her posture, her inborn habits taking charge. "School is… okay," she answers mechanically, shrugging. "It's different from what I'm used to, and the students are very… _vocal_. Mother would be appalled if she were to hear the words that come from the lips of some of those kids, and right in front of the teacher, too!" She shakes her head in surprise. "Apparently a lot has changed."

"Apparently so," the grandfather responds with another bout of laughter. "And the classes?"

"Well, class is class, I suppose," Maura says with a slight laugh. "But my literature teacher seems to adore my grammar usage, oh, and history class is quite fascinating! Our teacher went over the… the syllabus, I think is what he called it, on the first day of class and can you believe he plans on teaching up through 2008 by the end of the year? That means we're going to cover the future…" he trails off, a smile pinned across his lips.

"Your future, anyhow," the older man adds on and grins at the girl's awestruck expression.

Maura closes her jaw. "Right, well… I guess it's the past, even for me now, right? Since I'm here now, for…" she pauses, hesitating with her words, "for good."

The grandfather's smile twitches, but he reaches over and pats the girl's knee. "You're a strong young woman, you know that?" he asks and receives a thankful smile. "You know," he continues and squeezes Maura's knee reassuringly, "my father admired you very, very much."

"James?"

"Mhm, he looked up to."

Maura lowers her head and averts her eyes, scoffing in a slightly bitter manner. "He shouldn't have."

"You're his older sister, of course he'd look up to you—"

"I'm his older sister who ran away," Maura shoots back in interruption, her voice rising. She looks back at her brother's son, a man who is currently sixty-some years older than she, and quickly glances away once again. _How does this even make sense? He's that old, I'm this young, and yet I was born before he was. This wouldn't be happening if I weren't such a… such a…_ "I'm a coward."

"Maura Dorthea," the older man speaks softly a minute later, his tone caring. "Don't say that."

"But it's true!" she bites back and finally meets the other man's wrinkled face. Tears prick at her eyes. "I was too afraid to face my own mother and father, and so I ran. I took the easy way out. The only reason I'm sitting here right now is because I'm too much of a coward to stick around and deal with my problems like a proper woman should," she settles as the words that she believes to be true sting at her ears.

"The only reason you're sitting here right now, Maura Dorthea," the grandfather corrects gently, "is because this is how it's meant to be."

Maura darts her eyes to the floor. "Destiny, again, you mean."

"Mm," he hums neither in agreement nor disagreement. "Even if you were more of a woman, you would've followed Jane last month. You two would've been caught, she would've tried to bring you here, you would have said no at first, and in the end you still would have jiggled that pipe's handle."

The girl scoffs. "You say it like I have no choice over anything."

"Maura, if you hadn't followed Jane and agreed to stay here, in 2008, there's chance I might not even exist." Maura raises her eyes and meets the grandfather's face with a troubled, scrunched up brow. "What you did, Maura," the older man continues, "has so much control over what is today, and, if you ask me, no coward is ever given that much power." He squeezes the younger woman's knee one more time.

* * *

"Thank you, for everything," Maura whispers as she ends her embrace with her aged nephew, Jane's grandfather, on the front stoop. Angela and Frankie are already in the car, and Jane is a few strides away on the front walk, patiently waiting and overhearing.

The older man nods with a knowing smile. "Of course."

The younger woman smiles softly. "It's wonderful finally meeting you."

"Oh, this isn't the first time we've met," the grandfather says only to receive another look of confusion from his young aunt. He smiles and shakes his head. "You wouldn't know yet, though," he continues, a glint of secretive humor in his eyes, "I was much younger, and you and Jane were a couple decades older than you are now."

An awestricken smile closes Maura's jaw. Any mention of this entire time travel business has grown to simply fascinate her to no end. She glances over her shoulder at Jane and her smile thickens. After all, her nephew had said Jane's name in mention of an event that's yet to happen for her. That must mean they're still together in the future, mustn't it?

Jane smiles in response. "You ready to head home now?"

Maura returns her attention to the man standing in the doorway to his home, who nods once. "Okay," she says and embraces the fragile man in one last quick hug, "goodbye for now."

The grandfather waves as the car pulls away from the front curb.

* * *

_  
56_

57

58

59

Maura smiles as the seconds return to zero alongside the hour and minutes, all categories currently displaying big, digital-looking zeroes. Jane cheers beside her, and Angela clinks her champagne glass to Frankie's sparkling-grape-juice-filled glass.

Smiles all around.

She can hear the hollers and clashing of pots and pans from outside as young adults decide to ring in the new year with a boisterous grand welcome.

Rowdy welcomes she's used to, but even still there's something different, something missing. Back home, New Year was always joyful and jovial, but it held a hint of reservation. It was always more reserved than this.

_But this_ is _home_, she reminds herself again and again, taking a sip of the sparkling-grape-juice Angela had poured for her.

It's different from home, to say the least, but she's already established this fact on many occasions. It would be a lie to say she is fully adjusted and comfortable. It would be a lie to say she never thinks of her real home and never, ever misses it. She is human, after all. She has no super human strengths, no ability to completely forget the past. She is graced with no eerily fast adjustment period. She is a girl of eighteen years who left home for bigger and greater things.

As the minutes on the digital clock change from zero to one, a sense of finality washes over her and settles in her chest, as though the change is set for good. She's here now, in the twenty-first century, bringing in 2009 like any other eighteen-year-old.

Any feeling of being able to escape and return back to the 1900s is erased, as though to say _it's too late now_.

With her smile unnoticeably faltering, Maura tugs lightly on the sleeve of Jane's sweater.

Jane looks away from the glowing television screen, showing a montage of celebrators across the world, and turns her attention to the girl at her side. A smile trickles across her lips and pulls them back to reveal her teeth.

A blush works its way to warm Maura's cheeks as Jane leans forward and captures her lips in their first kiss of the new year. It's a gentle, tender kiss that lasts no more than several seconds, yet it has the ability to make Maura's lower abdomen tighten and her knees to weaken.

As they pull apart, Maura's hand finds its way from Jane's sleeve downward until their fingers lace together in a perfect weave.

"You okay?" Jane asks after letting her eyes scamper across her love's features.

Maura smiles and squeezes Jane's hand in her own. "I am now," she replies in a soft voice. "I am now."

* * *

**Hope** **you all enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review or comment. They literally make my day. And, I just like to know what you all are thinking or feeling. **


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30: Do You Remember It, Ms. Rizzoli?**

"Maura, you have a visitor!" Frankie's voice screeches from the floor below and pauses Jane's hands across the six strings of her old rosewood acoustic. She looks up to meet Maura's curious gaze.

A visitor?

Sure, Maura has made some friends over the past six or seven months she's been here, but they're Jane's friends, too. Any of them who stop by usually say they're there for Maura _and_ Jane, not just one of the two. "It's like I've suddenly befriended twins or something," Frost has joked recently. He can't seem to say a sentence about one of them without at least mentioning the other in some way.

When they come to the bottom of the stairs, Maura's jaw drops just a smidge and her eyes widen, which seems to be the common reaction whenever she lays eyes upon this visitor.

But this visitor is special.

She hasn't had any contact with this visitor since August of the previous year, mainly because she knew it would be too hard to see this person on any normal basis. Cutting ties was best, but those ties are quickly renewed as Maura's eyes fall upon the young boy standing at the front door, his hands clasped at his abdomen. He wears clean, respectable clothes and his hair is slicked back.

_Mother's doing_, Maura knows instinctively.

"James," she greets with a hint of surprise in her tone, "whatever are you doing here?"

The young boy holds onto a straight, serious front, not even offering so much as a smile. "There's something I need to speak with you about," he states rather plainly. There's an obvious change in his character since the last time he was here. A different feel is about him, an older and colder feel. It's a change of which Maura is not so certain she approves.

"Oh, okay," the older sister nods her head and takes a few steps closer. "But," she stops and a smile slowly opens across her lips, "can I at least have a hug? It's been half a year…"

For a moment, the boy doesn't move. He stands his ground, and it's clear he's battling a petty fight within his own mind. But as Maura opens her arms, James is unable to resist his natural urge, and he breaks from his spot at the door and dashes into his sister's welcoming arms, leaving his strong façade in his footsteps. He wraps his arms around the older woman and clings to her as Maura kneels down to his height. Usually such an action would annoy him, but he doesn't care this time. It's simply a relief to finally have his older sister once again.

As if on cue, a juvenile sob rips itself through his small body and into the odd shirt covering Maura's shoulder where James buries his head, both in embarrassment and absolute relief.

Maura wraps her arms around her brother's small frame and holds him close, softly shushing him with comforting words. "Shh, James," she coos. "It's okay. I'm here now. It's okay."

"Is everything okay in here? I thought I heard someone cry—" Angela bites her own tongue as she walks out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. Her eyes, as well as Jane's, quickly move to the sight occurring at her front door. Jane's eyes widen at Angela's entrance, and she immediately runs to her mother and pulls her by the arm back into the kitchen.

"Who was that?" she hisses, her eyebrows raised in expectance of an honest answer.

Jane glances back toward the front room and drags Angela deeper into the kitchen, nearing the back door. "James showed up to talk to Maura about something," she whispers and looks away.

At first, there's no recognition on the mother's face, but after a short moment she lowers her jaw in slight realization. "_James_?" she questions, keeping her voice low, "like Maura's brother, my grandfather James?"

With her daughter's nod, a smile pulls at her lips, and she turns to head back into the living room where her young grandfather is currently standing, but Jane stops her. "Ma, you can't go in there," she warns, brow hard.

"Why?"

"Ma, he's nine-years-old, he won't understand all of this," she explains and finally releases her mother's arm from her grip. "Especially if you go in there and greet him as "Grandpa!" I mean, he doesn't even know the family relation, Ma. I'm not sure if he even understands the time travel bit, or if he believes it." Jane shrugs and crosses her arms as she spares another glance back out at the embracing siblings in the other room. She watches as Maura pulls away and squeezes James' upper arms. She can see the younger boy's face and the stains of tears that glisten with their slick transparency across his puffy cheeks. It's been six months since the two have seen each other, and it's clear something has happened to spark this sudden meeting. James wouldn't just come to the future solely for a visit. And he's no crybaby either. He wouldn't just show up at their doorstep in 2009 and start crying.

He's here for a reason, Jane realizes.

* * *

"How do you spell Constance again? And say it slowly this time," Frost advises as he looks back down at the blank piece of paper laid out on the desk in front of him. Well, it's almost blank. All he's written so far is _Dear Cons—_

Maura sighs deeply, stops her pacing and sets herself down on the edge of the bed. "C-o-n-s-t-a-n-c-e," she spells her mother's name for the man seated at Jane's desk, spacing the letters and waiting for the sound of the pen moving against paper before continuing to the next. "Do you have it this time?" she asks and spares a sorry glance at the four wadded pieces of paper lying scattered on the floor.

They're the last four crumpled attempts of writing this letter, so poor they're not even worthy enough to make it to the trashcan.

Frost picks the pen up from the page and smiles at the legible, almost fancy result. "Got it," he says, lifting the page from the desk.

Maura raises her left eyebrow in disbelief. "Read it back to me."

The man glances over his shoulder and smiles at the doubt residing across his friend's features. Looking back at the single page, he reads back in a cocky voice, "C-o-n-s-t-a-n-c-e." His smile turns into a grin as he meets Maura's eyes.

"Right." The woman lets out another sigh, but this time one of relief. "Thank god, you can spell. Finally."

"So dear Constance," Frost disregards the remark. "Sorry your daughter's dead. Well, not really, but you need to think so. She's actually alive and well and living in the future. Best regards, your suspicious travelling stranger, Barry." The darker man pauses and turns the desk chair until he's facing Maura. "That works, right?" He flashes her a smile.

Maura crosses her arms. "Tell me you are joking, please, Mr. Frost." The formal surname rolls off her tongue before she can catch it. Old habits, Maura has come to learn over the course of her time as a young adult in the twenty-first century, die hard. She still addresses her friends with Mr. and Ms. Calling after them by their first name has yet to stick. It simply doesn't feel right.

"I'm joking," Frost replies, much to Maura's relief. "Okay, so, oh great writer," he begins as he spins the chair back around and places the paper on the desk, "guide me. How should I start this letter? It's your mother who gets to read this, so you tell me what to say."

The girl with the honey blonde hair uncrosses her arms and lets them fall to her sides, fingers curling around the excess bedding creased at the edge of the mattress. She lowers her head and drops her eyes to the ground, out of focus. She's thought about this long and hard since James stopped by the week before. Actually, this has really been the only thing on her mind ever since.

Luckily the actions yet to come were already planned before James arrived. The only matter she has to worry about is how to go about _getting_ to the actions and ultimately telling her mother and breaking the news to her. If she could, she'd write a personal letter since those seem to go a long way in this family, literally, but that would be to too sure and final, and it wouldn't go along with the questionable date of death written in all the records.

And this is where Frost, the suspicious travelling man who has run into Maura and Jane in the 1900s, comes into play, along with a letter explaining the incident.

The incident.

Maura closes her eyes and bites down on the inside of her lower lip. It's a fake incident, but it's meant to be real. It _will_ be real. It will be very real for a heartbroken mother in 1909.

She inhales sharply and shoves the thought of her mother's reaction to the back of her mind. She can't quite deal with that, not yet. Nor does she wish to when Frost returns after delivering the letter the following day.

She opens her eyes to the golden room, the setting sun casting an eerie light on the objects and furniture. _This time tomorrow he'll be on his way_, Maura realizes. That's what they've planned, anyway. The four of them, James and Jane included. They have a short time to create this false letter that will undoubtedly leave a mother in 1909 brokenhearted with only a son remaining to carry on the family name. It's awful, she knows. _But she needs closure._

That was clear from James' pleas for Maura to do something, anything. "As long as she knows you're alive out there, she won't stop waiting for your return," James had informed her once he had calmed down.

With a sigh, Maura lets her eyelids remain fallen after a long blink before forcing them open to reality a lengthy moment later. "Okay," she says and stands from the bed to resume her pacing. She crosses her arms, a determined front washing over her. "Begin with this, Frost." She glances over her shoulder and waits until she sees the man with his pen poised above the abnormally thick paper, yanked from the care package Mrs. Isles had sent with Frost all those many months before. Taking a deep, focused breath, Maura dives into the letter with a regretful introduction, "Dear Constance. It's with my deepest condolences that I am writing you this letter on this solemn day…"

* * *

"You've got the letter?" Jane asks for the sixth time in the past five minutes.

Frost rolls his eyes and pats the left breast pocket of his jacket. "It's right here," he reassures the two anxious women standing across from him. "It's still right here where I left it, believe me it has yet to grow wings and fly away."

A smirk pulls at Jane's lips, but Maura is not amused. None of this is a laughing matter. There's nothing that should be funny or even slightly a little bit humorous about this day and what they are about to do. Unclenching her jaw, she asks in a voice so soft it's almost a whisper, "Can we please stop trying to make this entire day a whole big joke?" She glances between her friends' eyes and then looks away. "I know you two are trying to make it easier for me, but it's not helping. And I'd… I would prefer if you stop cracking jokes and smirking and, and—"

Jane's hand on her lower back stops her wailing words, and she turns her head slightly, meeting the brown locked girl's eyes.

"Shh, Maura," she says in a hushed tone and dips her head closer to Maura's. "Breathe."

Maura obeys the command and closes her eyes, doing her best to calm her nerves. She knows she's not truly mad at them, as Jane and Frost know as well. It's the meaning of this day that's getting to her, getting to her emotions. And she's thankful she doesn't have to continuously explain that after every lash out. Taking a deep breath, she exhales the air slowly and opens her eyes to the ratty old park. The grass is crisp and brown in the slowly setting sun, the plants don't appear to hold a chance at rebirth come the entrance of spring, and the bare trees could certainly use a trimming every once in a while.

The sight is identical to how she remembers it the first time she followed Jane home, to 2008, the year before. But as she shifts her eyes a smidge to the left and finds the broken black water pump, she can't help the frown that falls across her lips. Behind that pump, she knows, should stand a house, _her_ house, but no house stands. Not even a stone or brick remains fallen. Nothing remains, nothing that would show a house once stood here.

With a sigh she directs her attention back toward Frost, nodding. "Okay," she says with a change in tone, "you best be on your way now, Mr. Frost. I… I wouldn't want you to interrupt their dinner." She pauses and closes her eyes for a lengthy moment. "No. It's best if you deliver the letter beforehand." She turns her head toward Jane. "What time is it?"

"Six-oh-seven."

"Good," Maura says with another nod. "We never sit down to dinner until seven-thirty, so…" Still nodding, she tries on a plain smile, blinking away a few tears from her eyes. "You should get there before then."

Frost nods once and turns, taking a few more steps toward the black pipe. He runs her fingers across the top of the handle and briefly recounts the last time he had done this, several months before. He was on a mission then, and he's on a mission now. It's the only reason he would agree to such a ridiculous thing, anyway. Reaching the end of the long handle, he runs his fingers halfway up and then pauses, looking across at Maura and Jane as he wraps his fingers around the cool metal. "I shouldn't be too long," he tells them, as though he already has an idea for how the scene will play out.

"Yes, don't linger unless Mother asks you to." Maura pulls her wool jacket farther around her torso as a chilly breeze rolls through. "She may like her visitors, but only at certain times. And I imagine this won't be one of those times she wishes for visitors to be lingering about the house, Mr. Frost."

"I'll get in and get out."

"Good, good," Maura says and looks to Jane for guidance, to fill in any holes she's forgotten.

Jane merely smiles and squeezes Maura's far shoulder in reassurance. "You know what to do, Frost," she says to her friend with a wave of much needed confidence washing across her voice.

With a firm nod, Frost sends the two young women a smile and wraps her fingers the rest of the way around the handle and jiggles it the way he remembers doing the first time and the way he had observed Jane do it once almost a year before, when she was first attempting to convince Frost of her silly time travel claim. He remembers how he had seen his friend standing here one moment and gone the next, as he feels the breeze pick up around him with its nippy, wintry bite and a sense of momentary loss around him before he opens his eyes to quite a different scene.

Where he stood moments before, there was mostly dead grass and a few patches of leftover snow that refused to melt in the sun. With a jiggle of the pipe's handle, the darker man finds himself standing in a yard of well over five inches of snow. The temperature has dropped significantly, and he yanks his relatively thin jacket farther around his body and crosses his arms to try and capture some of his body heat before it has a chance to escape.

Ducking his head and pulling his golfers cap down as far as it will go, he trudges across the yard and around to the front of the house, hoping all the while that none of the Isles take an interest in following his footsteps.

"No one mentioned a fucking snow storm," he grumbles to himself as he reaches the icy and luckily snow-covered front walk leading to the front steps. Using the railing, he slowly makes his way up to the front door of the Isles house and pauses.

As much as he wants to drop the letter and scram, he knows he can't. Even though there's snow falling from the sky, he has to stay here and play his part. He has to make it believable.

Collecting his thoughts, he pulls the folded letter from his pocket and pulls his cap off his head. And with a deep breath, he stretches his hand forward and places a few knocks on the front door.

He waits.

And he waits.

About to rap on the door once more, he hears footsteps on the other side before the door is cautiously cracked open.

"Mr. Frost?" the woman questions and opens the door a bit farther, a look of slight bewilderment falling across her features.

He nods in silent response and twists his cap between his hands. He keeps his face apologetic, not even offering a smile in fair greeting. "Mrs. Isles," he begins in a soft voice. Glancing at his hands, he slowly extends the letter to the woman and finishes in a remorseful tone, "It's with my deepest and most heartfelt regrets that I am standing here today."

* * *

Three days have passed since Frost last saw the Isles house. The snow had continued to fall in heavy sheets as he had walked away to the broken water pump, the sound of Mrs. Isles' forlorn sobs echoing in his ears and planting themselves in his memory to forever remain and harass him in 2009.

Now properly clothed for the weather, he is back at the same spot in the park, this time unaccompanied by Maura and Jane. Three days before he had broken the news to the Isles and now he is summoned back for the ceremony. It won't be much, he presumes, since there's no body or casket. It'll be more of a solemn wake than anything else, as Mr. Isles had told him before he had left.

By the time he arrives back in 1909, the sun has long since set and the only thing lighting his path to the grand house before him is the dim light escaping the windows of the Isles home. He follows a trampled path down the front walk and up the steps to the front door, where he then knocks shortly on the wood before a stranger pulls back the door and welcomes him with a warm smile.

"They're storing coats in the parlor," the stranger says quietly before walking away, a drink in hand.

There are people everywhere, huddling together in corners and speaking with one another in hushed tones. A piano plays somewhere off in the distance. He passes even more clusters of people paying their respects on his way to the parlor where he hangs his coat on an empty hook.

_All of this for Maura_, he realizes as he wanders around the rooms until finding a table lined with drinks and various snacks, much resembling a party. Picking up a drink and continuing his wandering, he wishes he could snap a few photos of this for Maura. _She's always so down, thinking no one truly cares about her… this would definitely prove her wrong_.

But he has no phone, no camera that is acceptable in such a time.

Taking a sip from his drink, he claims a lone corner of the dining room, far enough away from any of the other groups that he's not encroaching upon any conversations. The only person nearby is a young man, probably no older than he, with dark brown hair. He stands alone, a distraught look upon his features that holds a hint of loss but not of terrible sadness. After sensing Frost's eyes on him for well over a minute, he glances up and catches his gaze. A friendly smile pulls at his lips before fading, his eyes falling along with it.

_A little talking never hurt anyone_, Frost reasons and cautiously walks the several steps until he's beside the man. He raises his head. "Hi," he greets, for lack of a better first impression.

He nods, his smile twitching. "Good evening."

"Were you a friend of Maura's?" he asks after a minute of tense silence.

He nods again, a fuller smile warming his lips. "Oh, yes, I was her…" he trails off, his eyes narrowing as he looks away, as though searching for the correct answer in the jumbled depths of his mind. His brow creases as he shakes his head and finishes stiffly, "No, I was _only_ a friend."

_Weird_. "Ah," he says softly, "have you known her for a while?"

The young man shrugs and then stands up straight, as though attempting to correct the forbidden action. He meets Frost's eyes and responds in a nostalgic tone, "We've only known each other for the better part of a year, Mr.… I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Barry Frost," he supplies with a warm smile.

"Mr. Frost," he finishes, his lips pulling into a snug smile, the first one that hasn't quivered or faded within seconds.

Straightening up and taking a quick swig of his drink, he asks, "Would it be rude of me to ask your name?"

"Byron Sluckey," he replies.

"Byron?" Frost questions, the name ringing a few bells in his memories. He nods in response. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sluckey, but your name… it sounds so familiar, and I can't quite place where I would have heard it before."

"Well," he says, "Maura might have mentioned me, assuming you were his friend?"

_Byron… Byron… oh, right! That guy! James said that guy's name was Byron, didn't he?_ "I was, but I've only spent several hours with her and her… her companion after her departure from home," he replies, surprised at how well he's able to keep himself from slipping back into his normal everyday lingo. "Now, scorn me if I'm trespassing your privacy, but were you the young man her parents set her up with? The latest potential husband?"

Byron takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising, and nods. "Yes, that was I, I'm afraid."

"You know, Mr. Sluckey," Frost peeps up after a few moments, "Maura never meant to hurt you."

The young man looks away, turning his head. He lowers his gaze and attempts to hide the trace of hurt that flashes through his eyes. "Whatever are you speaking of, Mr. Frost?" he asks, trying on an innocent tone, accidentally letting a growl peep through.

Frost scopes the room before he explains in a hushed voice, "She told me about that day and the reason why she left home. She mentioned you as well, Byron. She was never purposely attempting to hurt you. What she had with Jane, it was… it was out of her control, Mr. Sluckey." He takes a moment as Byron turns his head and meets his eyes. He holds his gaze as he finishes gently, "She was already taken before she ever met you."

"She could have told me," he says as he breaks his eyes away from his and lowers his gaze to the floor. "I would have listened."

"But would you have understood?"

He raises his eyes and momentarily meets his.  
As much as he wishes to reply yes, he knows it would be false.  
Even if Maura had told him about Jane, he knows he would never understand.

"She loved Maura, didn't she?" Byron asks after a few minutes have passed, raising his eyes to Frost's once again. "That woman she was with?"

A smile crawls across his face as he nods once in confirmation. "Yes, she does, or, _did_, I mean," he catches himself.

"That's good," he settles with a faint smile. "I'm glad she found someone she was happy with while she had the chance, even if, well," he ends with a lopsided smile and a light shrug. "You know."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Frost finds himself back in the much warmer atmosphere of 2009, where the snow has long since left for the entrance of an early spring. He's just bid farewell to Byron and waved goodbye to James before he disappeared into the darkness and crept around to the backyard, fumbled for the handle and brought himself back home. It doesn't even feel so weird or mesmerized anymore, to one second be in the present and then the next be swooped back one hundred years into the past. It's weird to think about, of course, but performing the act isn't nearly as adrenaline rushing as it was the first time.

The only reason he agrees to do such is for Maura and Jane, anyway, to ensure that nothing either in past or present changes without according to plan.

He would never begin doing such for his own self-pleasure.  
No, there's far too much of a risk there… isn't there?

Yes, yes, of course there is.

There's no reason for him to be jumping back to the past for any silly monkey business, regardless of what pretty girl awaits his return back in 1909.

Leaving the park, Frost shakes his head, smirking at the crazy thought of returning for selfish reasons. _No, my mission's done_, he settles as he turns onto the lighted suburban streets of 2009, walking the familiar path toward home. He's still clothed in the trousers, dress shirt and wool jacket Maura had picked out for him, and, much to his surprise, the outfit is not nearly as itchy and uncomfortable as it was at the beginning of the night.

His mind dares to wander down the many paths of endless possibilities, imagining the impossible—him back in the past, dressed in these clothes, interacting beside those people. He's already done it a few times. But as he nears closer to home, he shoves the ridiculous thoughts from his mind.

_No_. He tells his own mind. _I went in, did what I needed to do, I'm out, and that's that. Closure is all Maura's family needed. They have it now, and that's all I was needed for. Now I can live here peacefully, just like any other teenager. There's no reason to even think about returning_.

Despite his confident position on the matter, a flash of the past can't help but tease his conscious mind, so different and _intriguing_ from today.

* * *

"Jane?" Maura rolls over and sits up, facing the brown locked girl in the front yard of her house, Jane's house. The sun is high in the sky, sending its blinding rays down on the humid, muggy world below. Birds are chirping. A few men nearby are taking advantage of the relatively cooler summer day and shoving as much yard work into the daylight hours as possible. A group of elementary-aged kids are playing cops and robbers farther down the street.

Jane cocks her head and throws the halves of the blade of grass she was tearing apart back into the sea of green and wipes her hands hastily on the knees of her jeans. "Hmm?"

The honey blonde waits until their eyes lock. "Let's go back," she says with excitement radiating in her hazel irises, an impish grin tugging at her lips.

"Go back…" Jane creases her brow and feigns confusion. "Where?"

"The past, silly," Maura replies with a light giggle. "Where else?"

"Maura…"

"Please, Jane?" she pleas, a frown protruding her lower lip.

The other girl lowers her eyes and picks at a few more blades of grass, tearing them from the ground before tearing them into tiny pieces within her hand and sprinkling them over the yard. She repeats the action twice more. "It's too risky," she decides. "You're supposed to be…. You're not supposed to be alive back then, Maura, what if someone sees you?"

Maura shrugs, her smile fading shortly. "So we disappear into the shadows and they claim they've seen a ghost," she pauses and smiles, "it's no big deal."

"Maura, I don't know…" Jane continues, worry coating her tone. She glances up from the pieces of grass in her hands and meets Maura's eyes from a squinted view.

A sigh pulls from the depths of Maura's lungs as she closes her eyes and leans her head back to the sky, the sun kissing her pale features. After a minute elapses, she turns her focus back to the other girl and sends her a warm smile. "Please, Jane, just this once?"

Jane screws up her face as she senses her personal defeat on the horizon. "For how long?"

Her warm smile erupts into a full out grin. "A few hours at the most," she reassures her, the excitement already boiling in her tone. "Can we go, can we go?"

The brown locked woman releases a heavy sigh and dumps the newest torn up pieces of grass back into the yard as she nods slowly in defeat. "Okay," she says with the same voice a mother would use to lay out guidelines for her children, "we can go, but _just_ this once, got it?"

With an understanding nod, Maura leaps up from her spot on the lawn and extends her hand to help Jane stand up. She keeps their hands together as they begin the familiar walk back toward the park, the shabby old park they've visited so many times in the past year and a half. The walk has become so familiar that neither girl needs to even think about which corner to turn when. The walk has become second nature, a path engraved into their memory for years to come. As they enter the park and take the dusty path back to the splintered picnic table across from which stands the broken black water pump, their portal that mysteriously leads them one hundred years back into the past. How it works will always be a mystery, and at this time neither woman is too busy searching for an explanation. It works, and that is that. That's all they need to know. And as long as the pump is here, all is well.

As the two approach the erect pipe, they can feel the adrenaline pumping a little harder throughout their bodies. Their hearts speed up, fueled by anticipation, for they haven't visited the past in many months, not for any reason at all. The idea of being magically transported teases their minds and sends smiles to their lips.

Jane squeezes Maura's hand, coming to a stop right in front of the pipe. She glances over at the other girl's eyes and can't hide the excitement that fills her own. "Ready?" she asks, her heart beating in her ears with an encouraging thump.

Maura's lips pull back into a mischievous grin, and with a simple nod she replies, "Always."

With her free hand, Jane reaches forward and grabs hold of the warm metal handle of the water pump. Her fingers encircle it with a familiar hold, and, with a deep breath, she closes her eyes and jiggles the handle.

And it's just as she remembers.

A breeze picks up around them and for a moment she feels completely lost before the breeze vanishes and the ground is replaced beneath her feet.

She opens her eyes to a much different scene, though it's familiar with its bright green grass and luscious plants of every color that line the yard beside the glorious house that looms over them. She's mesmerized for a second, caught in her own memories, but Maura yanks her arm and whispers, "Come on!" pulling her into the shadows and safety of the wooded area at the backside of the yard.

Without another word, Maura continues plowing her way between the trees, never letting go of Jane's hand.

"Maura, where are we going?" Jane dares to ask after a few minutes of complete silence have passed.

The woman with the honey blonde hair looks back over her shoulder and flashes her a mischievous smile. "You'll see," she says with a light laugh. "Don't worry, you've been here before. I know you like this place."

"Do I?" she asks, tone quizzical.

Maura nods, her head turned back around so she can look where she's headed. "Yes," she replies. "We've shared a great deal of… of lovely memories here, Ms. Rizzoli."

"Hmm, _lovely_ memories?" Jane smiles, her mind working around the hint and coming up with possibilities, one in particular. Her smile widens, and she leaps forward and wraps her arms around Maura's waist as she remembers doing once almost a year before en route to what she believes to be the same destination. "I think I like this place already," she whispers huskily beside Maura's ear as the girl halts and falls momentarily limp in her arms. "If I'm remembering correctly."

Maura tilts her head back to rest against Jane's shoulder and resists the innate urge to moan, even lightly. It's been days, maybe even over a week, since Jane has treated her in such a manner and held her this close. Her lower abdomen tightens in eager anticipation, the thought of finally getting Jane's lips against hers plaguing her mind and all of her senses. "I think your memory's headed in the right direction, Ms. Rizzoli."

"Back to the surnames, I see, Ms. Isles," she jokes and sways their bodies gently from side to side, resting her chin on Maura's shoulder.

"Ms. Rizzoli simply sounds better, doesn't it?" the other woman asks, unable to avoid a smile as Jane's lips brush against the side of her neck. "It has a nice ring to it, I think."

"Mm," Jane hums and pulls her nose away from the depths of Maura's mane of hair. She smiles and releases Maura, taking her hand instead as she pulls Maura along beside her, resuming their route. "At certain times and in certain places it does," she agrees and glances to meet her love's face. "As does Ms. Isles."

A smile graces Maura's lips as they depart from the wooded area and enter a familiar field of terribly overgrown grass. And far across the sun-filled field they can already see their destination.

An abandoned, white, wooden shed.

Within minutes, the two are standing before the shed hand-in-hand with nostalgic smiles plastered to their faces.

"Do you think it's still standing in 2009?" Maura asks, her tone low and soft, as though she doesn't wish to break the serenity of the situation, as though her too loud words would spoil the scene.

Jane meets her eyes and shakes her head remorsefully. "If it's this old now," she says, "then I doubt it stands a chance of surviving another hundred years."

"Pity," she whispers before wrenching the front doors of the shed open and leading the way into the shadowed shed. It's just as they've left it, barely touched over the past year, if at all. A thick layer of dust coats everything within. A musty smell from far too much rain soaking into the boards meets their nostrils as they step in and look around. There are a few new holes in the roof, letting a few more rays of sunlight leak through. Squeezing Jane's hand to gain her attention, Maura meets her eyes as a light smile trickles across her lips.

No words are needed at the moment, for they would only break the calmness as their memories rush forth to their conscious thoughts, the scenes replaying in snippets. Hands, lips, hushed words and breathy, nervous laughter…

"Do you remember?" Maura's voice breaks through the memories and causes Jane to raise an eyebrow.

"Remember what?"

"The first time," Maura says and looks around the shed as though searching for the memory to be replayed right before them. Smiling, she turns her head back and locks her eyes with Jane's in the shadows. "The first kiss, do you remember it, Ms. Rizzoli?"

_Of course I remember_, the answer floats forth, but Jane seals her lips to keep it from reaching the outside world. A faint smirk tugs at the right side of her mouth, and she answers instead, "Barely, Ms. Isles."

As she expected, a look of hurt flashes across Maura's face, but the woman tries not to show it.  
As soon as her smile twitches, she forces it back and offers a disappointed, "Oh."

"Ms. Isles?"

Maura raises her gaze after a moment, raising her brow in question.

Jane smiles and releases Maura's hand, wrapping her arms slowly around the girl's waist instead. Clasping her hands at the small of Maura's back, she directs in a gentle voice, "Remind me."

A greater smile pulls at Maura's lips, and a rosy blush scatters itself rightly and naturally across her delicate cheeks. It's a blush Jane hasn't seen in a while, a blush she's missed dearly. Smiling, Maura inches her way forward until her lips fall upon a familiar companion, reliving the memory of their first kiss.

The first kiss that brought their relationship to this new level, where once they arrived there was no turning back.

The first kiss that lit the spark for a relationship that could never happen across one hundred years.

The first kiss that determined the future between the two without either knowing.

The first kiss that would end with Maura Isles leaving her home and moving to live in the future with a brown locked girl who goes by the name of Jane Rizzoli.

The first kiss that was already written to happen before Jane ever stumbled into Maura's backyard.

It was a relationship predestined to mature into love.

With a blush still heavily filling her cheeks, Maura pulls away from Jane, finding her back against the one wall of the shed and Jane's hands on her hips. She smiles lightly and glances down, placing her own hands on Jane's upper arms. "Do you remember now, Ms. Rizzoli?" she asks in a hopeful tone, meeting her love's eyes in a ray of sunlight that leaks through the broken roof.

Jane smiles, her teeth glinting in the light. "Even though it feels like it's been one hundred years, Ms. Isles," she says and presses her lips to Maura's to savor one more tender kiss, "I believe I do."


	31. Chapter 31

**An epilogue to finish things up and to maybe perhaps leave open a few doors for you to follow with your own imagination. I've been working on this story for nearly three months! It's been my baby for that long. But I want to take this chance to sincerely say thank you for reading. I'm not always the best at responding to reviews, I get caught up in other things, but please know that I have and continue to read each review. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed in the past. And thank you for reading, even if you just found this story the other day or today or eight months from now, thank you. :) And if you've followed me straight from the get go, thank you, thank you, thank you. I dearly appreciate you being here with me throughout this story. :) I'm gonna miss this story so very much. I do plan on doing another story after this, but a new year of school is starting for me and I need to take a break. I will start my new story after my break, but I don't know how long that break will be with all of the adjustment and stress that comes with a new school year. OK. WAY TOO MUCH RAMBLING! Oops. Main gist: THANK YOU and please, even if you hate reviewing, at least leave one thought? I'd really appreciate it. :) Enjoy.**

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**Chapter 31:** **Epilogue: Basement Clutter**

She releases a heavy sigh as she drags her feet down the carpeted, creaky steps and into the pitch-black basement. It's the middle of the day, but not even half a window lines any of the walls of the dreary, cluttered room. Skipping the last step, she wraps her hand around the pole at the left side of the bottom of the steps and cautiously steps forward, keeping her right hand in the air to blindly search for the little two-inch-long drawstring that she knows is hanging from a light bulb well within reach.

Regardless, the string is still quite a reach, for her fourteen-year-old arm span isn't yet at its fullest. As her fingertips brush against the rounded metal loops, she pauses and grasps the chain between the top knuckles of her index and middle fingers, pulling once to illuminate the basement with a faint light that sporadically flickers until succumbing to being turned on.

Scoping the large room, she mindlessly itches her scalp near her auburn ponytail and grimaces at the sight before her.

It's clutter, that's all it is.

There are more than several boxes stacked in nice piles throughout the room, some against walls, others leaning against her mothers' first couch and some simply standing alone in the middle of what could be called an aisle.

_"You think this is bad, you should have seen my grandfather's basement," Jane had told her the last time she bothered to complain about the mess._ Her basement is so uncool, she has whined to her parents, because, after all, nearly all of her friends have finished basements with pool tables and old school video games and flat screen 3D TV's and couches and vintage bean bag chairs and… well, none are cluttered fire hazards, not like this one.

She frowns as she flicks her bangs out of her eyes and tries to think of the best place to begin. _"If you help clean the basement, we'll see what we can do about fixing up the place, okay?" Maura had bargained with her the week before._

After a moment, she settles on the simplest task—two very small stacks of boxes. They appear much more cared for than any of the other boxes, being nicely stored and cautiously stacked out of the way of any accidental elbowing on anyone's walk through the basement.

With a grunt, she removes the first box from the stack, places it on the red-painted cement ground and blows the layer of dust off the top, coughing and waving her hand in front of her face as the dust fights back and tickles her nostrils.

Batting away the last of the dust, she kneels down beside the box and pulls back the flaps. A sigh pulls itself from the depths of her lungs as she glances inside at the contents—more clutter. It appears someone, probably Jane, simply took a bunch of family heirlooms (more like knickknacks) and threw them into a box to sit around for someone else to sort through in the future. _Typical_, she thinks as she rummages through, finding nothing more than some old toys, a few framed photos and clothing she doesn't dare touch.

Unimpressed, she shoves the box a few feet away and drags the box that was beneath it to the now vacant spot in front of her. Not having to worry about dust on the top of this one, she pulls back the flaps and can't suppress a frown.

"So boring," she grumbles to herself and pulls out a framed photograph that was lying on top. It's faded from being in a place where the sun could hit it for far too long before it became a resident in this box. Placing it aside, she pulls out the next few photographs. The subjects appear to be the same in all of the photographs, two of which are Maura and Jane. The others she has trouble placing. Sometimes a woman is present, other times an older man, and others show a young boy who clearly ages through the stack of photos. The boy looks familiar, but she can't quite place his face.

Setting them aside, she picks up a few more photos and almost drops them as the stack proves to be too tall for her grip. The frames clink together as they fall back into the box from her faulty grip. As she goes to pick them up again, something catches her eye, something that has fallen from the safety between the photographs.

She wraps her fingers around an edge of it and brings it closer.  
It's a faded envelope, nothing very exciting to the observer.

But as she turns it over in her hands, she notices it is unaddressed and still tightly sealed.

Figuring it won't hurt anyone for it to be opened and its contents revealed, she slides her thumb beneath the corner of the glued flap and tears it open, fueled by curiosity. Once open, she pulls out a single page folded in threes.

"A letter?" she asks to herself as she unfolds it, confusion creasing her brow.

She skims over the first few lines and finds no person to whom the letter was ever directed or addressed. "Hey, Ma!" she calls over her shoulder in a voice loud enough to be heard on the floor above, thinking she'll probably have an answer as to what this is. It's their stuff anyhow, they should know.

_June 10, 1917_

My dearest regards to the reader who has found this letter, though I have no doubt you are one of the family. What day it is now, wherever you currently are, I have not the slightest clue. For all I know, this may not be opened until the fourth millennium, if the world is still in existence by then. Would a letter even make it that far? I know there is quite a good deal of technological advances right now in 2017, and from what I've heard no one bothers with letters anymore, at least not on paper. Everything is done via… oh, I don't even know what the devices or services are, but I know paper certainly is not involved.

So it's the tenth of June in 1917, as it is in 2017. I'm now seventeen and Maura and Jane are both twenty-six years of age. They're still together, of course. I never had a doubt they would be together for many, many years to come, though Barry, I know, has voiced some uncertainty before. I suppose they've proven him wrong now, haven't they?

Well, I met with them the other day. They're doing swell. They adopted a little girl, an adorable little one of six years who speaks with such proper speech it embarrassed the adults at the adoption agency, according to Maura. She's a beautiful little thing with these curious hazel eyes that hold onto a tinge of fright and amazement as she walks around in their world, eyeing everything with the same alien, fascinated look Maura used to sport only nine years ago.

The adoption agency, from what Maura has told me, said the police brought her in. She was clad in only a thin, ragged, old flowery dress at the time. She looked troubled, they said, and she sounded confused. She had no papers, no records and no traceable living family members. She said the last thing she remembered was wandering around town while her mother was shopping. When they inquired of her father, she continually replied, "Daddy's off at war. He's fighting the bad guys." Problem is, there's no war right now in 2017, but war is raging at the moment in 1917. I'm lucky they haven't shipped me out to fight yet, but I'm sure the time will come soon enough.

So Maura and Jane have adopted this confused little girl who repeatedly claims it's 1917. The agency says she's quite the little actress and that she has a very, very creative and blossoming imagination. Though I won't be surprised if there's report of a missing girl with auburn hair around here in the following weeks. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if that's the root behind most missing person cases, all this time travel business. And I doubt the water pump in our yard is the only… oh, what would you call it? A passageway? I really have not the slightest clue.

Most call it folly, crazy talk, but I know otherwise. It's truly fascinating. Sure, our family tree may be rather… intertwined at a first glance, but it does not seem so bizarre anymore. Maura was here. She was in 1908. But now she is there, living a century ahead simply parallel to the past.

It's quite fascinating to think about, is it not? Two centuries, two times occurring at exactly the same moment, just… parallel to one another. And like two parallel lines, they are never meant to interact, let alone touch. But this is life, and this is where the difference to math and textbooks occurs. Life is where there are exceptions to the rule, where unsuspected miracles arise from time to time.

And Maura and Jane are the exception in our little corner of life. They are the exceptions, each in her own time. And together they have found their equilibrium, their little happy place in the world. They live happily together in the year 2017, one hundred years from this exact moment, with a beautiful young girl, whom they have rightfully named Constance.

Now, what purpose does such a letter serve, you may wonder? I have been pondering the same, to be entirely honest. Perhaps this is more of a ramble, a useless chain of thoughts rather than an actual letter, for I have no brilliant advice or wisdom to share, nor a quest for you to complete. Though for all I know, this could be the very first time you've heard of any of this time-difference and travel talk. If so, I hope I have not opened a can of worms with you and your family. If they have hidden it from you, they clearly had their reasons. Though, perhaps you already know of all of this and I am merely repeating old news. Whatever the case, I wish you all the best in everything you do.

Best regards,  
James Theodore Isles

"What is it?"

She jumps at the voice and looks over her shoulder to see Jane standing halfway down the basement steps, leaning her head down to see what the matter is. She glances briefly back at the letter in her hands and then back at her mother.

"Nothing, Ma, I was just… I wasn't sure where to start with the cleaning," she says with a warm smile.

Jane continues down two more steps to catch a better view of the basement and the few boxes her daughter has moved out from beside the wall. "Well," she says and shrugs a brown lock behind her shoulder, "it looks like you found a good place to start, yeah?"

With another look back at the box of photographs, she nods. "Definitely a good place," she agrees.

The mother drums her fingers on the railing for a moment as she eyes the area again, knowing what items her daughter is finding, and those still awaiting her young eyes. "So," she resumes after a minute has passed, "you okay down here?"

The daughter looks back over her shoulder once more, now holding a framed photograph in her hands. A smile graces her features as she replies shortly, "Yep."

With one more glance, Jane deems it safe to leave. "Have fun, Connie," she says as she continues back up the steps to the main floor. "Maura and I will be down to help later, okay?"

"Okay!" Constance calls back as she hears the basement door click shut. And with the same eagerness and fascination filling her eyes that once shined in Jane's when she first discovered the journals in her grandfather's basement, she returns her attention to the photographs and other family heirlooms boxed away in their basement, awaiting the day to be discovered to carry on their timeless story.


End file.
